


At the Dawn of Something New

by PechoraFlow



Series: I'm Hoping that You Will See Yourself [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1, And angst, CAN WE PICK ONE NAME PLEASE, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Humans, Hurt Peter, Hurt Tony, I wrote this to cope, Iron Dad, No Slash, No beta we die like nem, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Parkour, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Spider-son, The Blip, The Decimation, basically: what if peter and tony adopted each other post-snap, because that's Illegal and makes people Uncomfortable, but a lot of fluff don't worry, do not tag as ship, literally only rated T because Tony uses grown-up words, the snap, this better be soft, whoops i killed a couple characters sry, why is that not an official tag yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2020-06-24 07:44:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19719256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PechoraFlow/pseuds/PechoraFlow
Summary: Or, 5 times Tony let Peter sleep, and 1 time Peter was the one awake.Thanos won. With a snap of his fingers, half of all life blipped out of existence. Tony and Peter are left in the wake of all the dust and destruction, faced with the daunting task of trying to rebuild what they can.They can't rebuild very much, but maybe they can get a fresh start.Excerpt:“Kid, it’s a long shot anyway-”“You’re Tony Stark,” Peter insisted. “Everything you do is a long shot. All of your daring action plans are long shots. What changed?”Tony said nothing for a few moments, but he finally admitted, “We did, Peter.”





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Me, avoiding Endgame canon: pARKOUR
> 
> Here we go! My first 5+1. The prologue is really short, but I just needed to set up the story so that people weren't confused about who got dusted and who did not. 
> 
> I'm posting the next chapter on Tuesday, July 9 at 6PM EST. I have it written - just need to polish it one more time. 
> 
> Title from what I think is the ultimate Iron Dad song: "I See You" by MISSIO. Seriously, give it a listen or look up the lyrics you won't regret it

Tony tried to ignore the way his hand shook as he sprayed a temporary material into his new stab wound, focusing instead on the icy burning sensation in his abdomen.

He had had worse injuries in the past. Compared to getting shrapnel in his chest and having anesthesia wear off mid-surgery, this was a flu shot.

But survival had cost him something.

How haunting. _The price for saving his life was half of the universe_. And the worst part about it was that he knew the truth: that he was the most undeserving person to receive that grace.

“Why did you do that?” Tony asked, tearing his attention away from his injury to give Strange a look. Where was that moral compass that he had bragged about back on the ship? Prick. 

Strange looked him in the eye, willing him to understand something. “We’re in the endgame now.”

“Mr. Stark?” a voice called. Tony turned and found Peter, his mask retracted. The teenager was helping the brutish alien – Drax? – to rejoin the group, but once the teen caught sight of his mentor looking rather worse for wear, he quickly guided the alien towards some debris he could lean on before rushing to Tony’s side.

“Mr. Stark, are you okay? What happened to your...” Understanding dawned on Peter’s face. “He... Did he...?”

“I’ll be all right.” Tony tried for a reassuring smile, but it probably was more of a grimace. “It’s just a light stab. I’ll walk it off.”

Peter worried his hands. “Are you sure?”

“Yep,” Tony said tersely. He extended a hand for Peter to grab. “Here, help me up. I’m not as spry as you are.”

Peter looked like he wanted to say more, but he remained dutifully silent, taking Tony’s arm to help his mentor shift his weight back onto his feet. Tony noted gratefully that Peter hadn’t let go of his arm, even though he was now standing pretty solidly.

Suddenly, Peter tensed.

Tony looked up at Peter, a question almost formed, but the Mantis girl spoke up before he could voice it.

“Something’s happening...” she said, watching the clouded sky overhead.

And just like that, she disappeared into dust.

Peter’s grip tightened on Tony’s hand as he came to the same conclusion as everyone else.

Thanos did it.

A snap of his fingers, all the way back on Earth, assuming that’s where Vision was – or, rather, had been. The effects of that one action rippled through the universe like a silent sonic boom.

“Quill?” They hadn’t even had the time to process Mantis’s disappearance before Drax was disappearing as well, starting from the hands and working up to the face.

And just like that, another ally was gone.

Tony gripped Peter’s hand tighter.

Quill looked at Tony, an apologetic expression on his face. Tony took a step towards him. “Steady, Quill.”

“Oh man,” Quill breathed, before he, too, slipped away into the wind, nothing more than dust.

It was all happening too fast- _It was all happening too fast-_

It shouldn't be happening at all.

“Tony,” Strange said, pulling Tony’s attention to him once more. The doctor shook his head slightly. “There was no other way.” Then, having said his piece, he looked away and accepted the inevitable. He joined the others as ash.

The longer Tony stared at the piles of dust, the sicker he felt. Judging from Peter's tight grip on his arm, he felt the same way.

The blue woman that had joined halfway through the fight stood some distance away. Peter and Tony watched anxiously, hoping that they would not lose more people than they needed to, but their hopes were dashed when she raised her arm and gazed at it, remaining still and passively accepting her fate as the wind pulled the dust from her body and swept her away.

And then there were two.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked, a tremor in his voice.

Tony’s heart plummeted.

_No. Not him too. Please..._

He quickly brought his full attention on his protégé, fumbling for both of the teenager’s hands.

There they were.

Solid.

Warm.

Shaky.

But solid.

“You’re all right,” Tony said, willing it to be true. “You...you feel okay?”

Peter nodded tremulously. “I don’t think... I’m not... Are you...” _going to disappear?_

Tony did a mental once-over of himself and, aside from the pain in his abdomen, found nothing out of the ordinary. “I... I don’t think so kiddo.”

Peter cast a glance around the ruins of Titan, never letting go of Tony’s hands. “So...we’re alone?”

Tony let that sink in.

Alone, in space, with their ship beyond repair.

Alone, with only half of the universe.

Alone, just like he was when he flew that nuke through the wormhole.

On second thought, maybe it was best to not let anything sink in.

“We need to get back,” Peter yelped, eyes wide. “May- What if everyone-”

“We’ll get back,” Tony interrupted. “We just need a ship.”

_‘Just’ need a space ship. Sure. As if it were ever that easy._

“What about the Guardians’ ship?” Peter suggested. “I mean, they got here somehow, right? So they should have a ship somewhere.”

Tony ruffled the kid’s hair but maintained his grounding grip on one of Peter’s hands. “It’s a start.”

The lack of other life seemed to echo around them, whispering with the wind and rumbling - a storm that had yet to come.


	2. immobilis in immobili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I going to be cliche and name my chapter titles after quotes from books?
> 
> Yes. Yes I am.
> 
> Chapter title inspired by the motto of the Nautilus in "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea", by Jules Verne.

Day 1

Peter eyed the bag suspiciously. “What’s that?”

Tony shrugged and grabbed one of the snacks inside the bag. “Food?” he guessed and popped it in his mouth.

Peter choked. “You can’t just-! What if it’s, like, a parasite or something?”

Tony leveled a look at the teenager, who sat on the other side of the table. “Why would somebody keep a bag of parasites? A _plastic_ and _open_ bag of parasites?”

“Maybe it’s like, a delicacy or something,” Peter suggested, setting his chin on his arms, which were folded on the tabletop. “I bet the Destroyer guy could have eaten these and have no problems.”

“Kid, we’ve only got alien food,” Tony said. “You should get used to it – at least for the next week or two.” Tony offered the bag to Peter, who made a face, but begrudgingly took one and popped it into his mouth.

* * *

Day 3

Early on, they had decided that sleeping in the beds that the Guardians had once occupied felt wrong. So instead, they grabbed blankets and anything soft that they could find and camped out in what they guessed was the communal area.

A ‘cosmic sleepover’, Peter had called it.

Tony knew that the lack of sunlight could potentially screw their circadian rhythms over – and usually, this wouldn’t be much of a concern, but he didn’t want it to escalate so that Peter would be awake while Tony was sleeping.

So, rule number one: sleep at the same time.

At the end of what they guessed was a ‘day’, they would head down to the communal area and go to the corner, like they always did. Tony would lean back against the wall, and Peter would use his lap as a pillow. It was awkward at first, but the chill from space encouraged them to stay close. Now, it was natural.

They would sit there, sometimes talking, sometimes just breathing, and they would simply slip off into sleep.

Waking hours were spent trying to familiarize themselves with the Benatar. After a few days, exploring the ship grew old. Both had memorized the features of every room, and knew which buttons worked and which ones didn’t.

Most of the buttons didn’t.

* * *

Day 6

The ship stopped moving.

A few futile attempts at getting the ship to travel again just served to demoralize them further.

They weren’t going to make it back on their own. Not without rescue.

When they weren’t sleeping, Peter was working on what he thought was some type of communicator, while Tony kept working on finding some way to fix the broken ship.

They could fix this.

* * *

Day 9

“I knew what I was getting myself into,” Peter said.

Tony looked down at Peter, still carding his fingers through the boy’s hair. “What?”

“A one-way trip,” Peter explained. “You said that it was a ‘one-way trip’. I figured it would be something like that, but I couldn’t leave you up here alone, you know?”

Tony felt his throat tighten.

“And, I mean...” Peter smiled, either feeling embarrassed or attempting a small joke. “What kid is going to give up going to space?”

Tony huffed a laugh. “You’re going to be the death of me. You know that?”

Peter’s smile faltered. “I know.”

* * *

Day 13

It wasn’t working.

Peter told him that he thought that perhaps he might have triggered some sort of beacon, if the soft beeping noise was anything to go by, but whether that attracted the right kind of people or not was up for debate.

Well, no, it really wasn’t. The beacon was their only option.

Tony had learned long ago that sometimes, something could be unfixable because it needed something else – a replacement, an addition, an upgrade.

Too bad they were fresh out of those.

* * *

Day 14

“Well, this might be a problem,” Tony said, sifting through food packets in the corner cabinet of the communal area.

Peter walked over to stand by his side. “What is it?”

“Assuming we eat once a day,” Tony explained, “there is only enough food to get us through two more days. Plus one extra.”

“We only have five packs left?” Peter asked.

Tony nodded. “Two for me, three for you.”

Peter’s jaw clenched as he looked over the contents of the cabinet, wracking his brain to find a solution.

After a long while, he spoke up. “I don’t have to each as much as a normal person does.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Come again?”

“I mean...” Peter took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I can last a lot longer without food. You know how spiders...sometimes don’t get enough caught in their web and yet they’re fine? Whatever that is – whatever lets them live without a full meal – I have that.”

Tony squinted. “Are you bullshitting me right now? Because it sounds like you just made that up.”

Peter hastily shook his head. “No,” he said, then smiling, “no bullshit here. Promise.”

Tony scrutinized him for another minute, waiting for Peter to break and give away any lie in his explanation. When Peter remained honest-faced, Tony nodded reluctantly. “Alright, kiddo. You better tell me if you start to get hungry, though, all right?

Tension left Peter’s shoulders. “Yep- yeah, yes sir. You’re the boss.”

* * *

Day 17

When Peter came back into the communal area, Tony almost laughed. “Decided to take a pit stop at some kind of cyberpunk thrift shop?”

Peter shrugged, jostling the frame of the leather jacket he had put on. It was a dusty maroon, scraped and scuffed in so many places that Tony was sure it had been well worn by its previous owner.

After looking at it for a minute, he recognized it as one of Quill’s jackets.

“Pete, what...?” Tony started, standing up and moving to where Peter stood in the doorway.

“I...um...” Peter mumbled, “I got cold.”

“Space can be chilly,” Tony agreed jokingly. He pushed his fingers through Peter’s hair out of habit but froze when his fingers brushed the cold rim of Peter’s ear. “What...?” He put his hands over Peter’s ears, finding them both ice cold. “Shit. You weren’t kidding. C’mere.”

Tony gently pulled Peter into his arms, bundling the teenager to his chest. Through the layers of thick leather, Tony could feel Peter shaking slightly. The boy moved closer to Tony, pressing his face against Tony’s collar.

Peter hummed. “You’re warm.”

* * *

Day 19

“Bad news, kiddo,” Tony started, his expression grim.

Peter looked up at him from where he was sitting on the floor, looking through what looked like a magazine but was written in some language that neither of them knew.

Tony broke eye contact and held up a silver pouch. “Last food packet.”

At those three words, Peter’s gaze fell to the floor. “You can have it-”

“Nope,” Tony interrupted. “It’s all yours.”

Peter frowned. “I told you, I don’t need-”

“Please, kiddo,” Tony said, taking a softer tone as he kneeled down next to Peter. “If not for the sake of food then take it for my peace of mind. Humor me.”

Peter searched Tony’s face for a few moments, but begrudgingly accepted the food packet with a delicate grip, as if he wanted Tony to know that, if he were to change his mind, he could take the packet back.

Tony ran a hand through Peter’s hair, which had become drier as time had passed. “It’s all yours, buddy. Take your time.”

* * *

Day 21

The helmet felt heavier than it did several days ago. Whether that was some metaphor his brain came up with or if his arms just weren’t strong enough to lift the thing, he wasn’t sure, but either way, he set it down on the floor in front of him.

One last message, in case Pepper was still alive, or the other Avengers managed to undo the Snap without him and brought her back – god, he hoped she wasn’t gone.

“It’s always you,” he whispered.

And there was nothing else to say.

He switched the recording off with unsteady hands. The sound of the suit powering down filled the dead space of the room.

He sat there, staring into the vastness of space, for once feeling a grim acceptance. It was a nice change from the choking panic he usually felt.

_BANG._

Tony jumped at the sudden noise, whipping towards the ladder that would lead down to the communal room. “Pete?”

No response.

Tony stood and moved to the edge of the platform so that he could see down into the room.

There, lying unresponsive on the floor, was Peter.

“Peter!” Tony hastily scrambled down the ladder, almost losing his footing multiple times. He skipped the last few rungs and jumped down. His hips and knees protested violently at the movement, but he pushed aside the pain in favor of rushing to the teenager.

As soon as Tony reached him, Peter groaned and started to push himself off of the ground.

“Pete, kid, relax, okay? Don’t push yourself-” Tony ordered.

“I’m all right, Mr. Stark,” Peter interrupted almost breathlessly. “I just...tripped and hit my head on the table.”

“And yet you don’t have any bruises or cuts or anything,” Tony pointed out, checking over the boy’s head to ensure that Peter hadn’t in fact ‘hit the table’.

Peter shrugged. “I heal quick.”

Tony leveled a look at Peter, who looked away.

“All right,” Tony acquiesced, deciding to play along for now. “You don’t have a problem with standing up, do you?”

Peter blinked, confused. “What?”

“Because if you couldn’t stand up,” Tony went on, “that would mean that you were lying to me, and that you aren’t ‘all right’ and you don’t just ‘heal quick’.”

“I can- I can stand up,” Peter insisted. “Easy peasy.”

After leveling a scrutinizing look at Peter, Tony himself stood up and, when Peter didn’t move, he gestured for the kid to follow suit.

Peter grabbed the edge of the table, pulled himself up...and fell forward, his knees buckling from his weight.

Tony caught him before he could hit the ground, and Peter latched onto him for support. As slowly as Tony could manage, he eased Peter to the ground, moving the teenager so that he could still cling to Tony as they moved to the floor.

Peter didn’t protest at being held in Tony’s lap. He kept his face hidden and arms tight around the man’s shoulders.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Tony realized that Peter was much more lightweight than he had expected him to be.

“Peter,” Tony started, trying to keep his voice even. “Were you lying to me about not needing food?”

He felt Peter press his face into his shoulder, but he didn’t respond.

“I need an answer,” Tony said.

When still there was no response, Tony grabbed Peter by the shoulders and forced the kid to sit back.

He didn’t expect to see tears on Peter’s face.

The teen had bags under his eyes, and his cheeks were gaunt and bony – there seemed to be no more of that leftover childish soft fat in his features. Tony was sure he himself looked somewhat similar, but if his suspicions were true, and Peter had been lying...

Then Peter was way further ahead on the path to starvation.

“Why did you do it?” Tony whispered.

Peter hugged himself, shaking like a leaf. “I-I usually eat a-a-a lot, and my- M-M-May has t-to work... she has to work overtime j-just to... She’s- she always comes back tired, an-and... I’m sick of- of being a burden that way, s-s-so... I just...” He covered his mouth to stifle a sob.

Tony deftly wiped the tears from Peter’s face with his thumbs and pulled him back into a hug. Peter wrapped his arms around Tony’s torso, his grip frail and fragile, like a thin sheet of ice.

“That’s what the jacket’s for, isn’t it?” Tony said. “You were trying to hide... This whole time, you...”

Peter shook from the tears, curling in on himself even further. Tony took a deep breath, biting his tongue to calm the trembling in his jaw. After a minute, he collected himself enough to trust his voice again.

“No more sacrifices,” Tony ordered. “First Strange, then you... I can’t be the reason you die, Pete. I don’t know if I would come back from that.”

Tony could still feel Peter’s tears getting soaked up in his shirt. The chill from the ship turned the wet spots into cold bites, but he ignored them. “No crying,” he playfully chastised. “We’re out of water, remember?”

Peter nodded into Tony’s neck and sniffled, most likely trying to cut off the waterworks. Tony rubbed a thumb into Peter’s neck. “It’s all right,” he said. “Nothing we can do about it now.”

_There’s nothing I can do._

At some point, Peter had fallen asleep.

Tony found himself hoping that the air would run out while Peter was sleeping – that way, he wouldn’t be able to feel any sort of anxiety before the time came. Maybe he wouldn’t wake up.

Maybe it would be peaceful.

Was suffocation like drowning? There was some rumor that drowning was the most peaceful way to die. Maybe suffocation would be like it.

His father had made him read _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ once – something about the “educational value of Jules Verne”. There were too many fish descriptions to really make it interesting, but there was one scene...

One scene, where they ran out of air.

* * *

_“However, everything has an end, everything passes away, even the hunger of people who have not eaten.”_

* * *

He lost track of time. Probably for the best – if he knew what time it was, he’d be counting down the hours.

The minutes.

The seconds.

Peter didn’t stir.

Tony envied him as the teen kept on breathing evenly and deeply. He didn’t understand how breathing could be that effortless – he was having trouble controlling his breaths himself.

Inhaling and exhaling shouldn’t be this difficult.

He was getting himself worked up in his head again.

And then.

There was a light.

She walked through the doorway, shoulders taut and on alert, her form shining with residual glow as it dimmed and settled.

When her eyes fell on them, a brief wave of surprise passed over her face before she schooled her features into more of a reassuring look. She knelt down next to Tony, who had yet to speak. For once, he was somewhat speechless. After all, it wasn’t as if he expected a glowing woman to show up all deus-ex-machina-like.

“Is there anyone else on the ship?” she asked.

Tony shook his head slightly. “No.”

“Where were you going?”

“Earth,” Tony whispered.

The lady nodded. “I can get you there. Are either of you hurt?”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed with some food and a good week-long nap,” Tony joked, but the relief in his voice took the punch out of the quip.

Subconsciously, Peter nuzzled into Tony’s collarbone further, seeking an escape from the flooding chill of space. Tony tightened his grip in response.

The woman’s eyes softened when they fell on Peter. “You might want to secure him – we’ll be traveling at light speed. Things could get a little rough.”

Tony nodded, remembering the seats in the cockpit that were probably meant for that purpose. “Okay. I can do that.”

Carefully, he secured Peter in his arms and rocked himself to his feet, trying to not jostle the teenager as much as possible. His aging hips and lower back creaked at the movement, but he made it to a standing position, so he counted it as a win.

Now for the walking part.

And then the ladder part.

The woman looked at the ladder, and then looked back at him, an eyebrow raised in a bemused expression. “You need some help?”

Tony normally would have protested against handing his kid over into the arms of a stranger, but he was low on blood sugar, and she was helping them. Plus, it wasn’t as if he had a lot of options. His body was already growing sore, and he couldn’t climb the ladder with Peter in his grip.

He nodded jerkily. “Sure,” he strained. The woman offered out her arms, and Tony gently transferred the sleeping teenager over to her.

She took him, similarly gentle, and frowned. “He’s light,” she said in a low voice.

“Out of food,” Tony explained briefly.

The woman’s jaw worked in thought, but she said nothing. Instead, she moved towards the ladder, her body charging with that golden energy that she had before. Her feet were lifted off of the ground, and she drifted up to the cockpit. Tony followed on foot behind her, pushing through even as his vision started to sway.

Carefully, the woman set Peter into one of the chairs. Then, she turned to face Tony head-on, her expression returning to her ‘business mode’. “I’ll go out and get us moving. Strap him in, then take another chair and buckle up.”

Tony nodded, and she moved off, presumably returning to...wherever she had managed to enter the ship.

Quietly but quickly, Tony moved the seat straps into place over Peter’s sleeping form. Occasionally, his knuckles would brush against Peter’s harsh ribs, and he would grit his teeth, but keep moving.

Peter probably would have liked to be awake to meet the glowing woman, and he probably would have liked to experience traveling at light speed, but the teenager looked so serene, so fragile, that Tony decided it would be better to let him rest. He would need to wake up to get off of the ship, but until then?

Until then, Tony would not be the one to pull him back into their broken reality.

Tony managed to secure himself into a nearby chair and take Peter’s limp hand in his own before the woman jolted the ship into movement.

_Finally_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF. ANGST. MY TWO BEST FRIENDS.
> 
> I'm glad this is up. Now that first shot prologue doesn't have to weigh on my conscience. :D 
> 
> Next update on Monday at 6 EST. I'll try to keep them on Mondays from now on, just for future reference.
> 
> Bonus: This bit was too wordy to put as the title, but I love this quote. 
> 
> "I ask no more than to live a hundred years longer, that I may have more time to dwell the longer on your memory." - 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Jules Verne


	3. next to cough drops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I really do think that love is the best thing in the world, next to cough drops. But I also have to say, for the umpty-umpth time, that life isn’t fair. It’s just fairer than death, that’s all.” 
> 
> – "The Princess Bride", by William Goldman

As soon as they landed, Tony was fumbling with the seat belts and buckles, trying to get out.

Lordy. He’d seen _car seats_ easier to escape than this.

Eventually, he freed himself from the chair and pushed himself to his feet. A wave of lightheadedness almost pushed him back into his seat, but he warded it off, stumbling over to Peter instead.

The kid blinked his eyes open sluggishly, looking at him through lids that wouldn’t fully open. Tony let himself grin upon seeing him awake again. “Hey, kiddo,” he said. “We’re back. We’re home.”

The faintest lines of confusion crossed Peter’s gaunt expression. It was clear that he wanted some sort of clarification, but Tony decided not to explain. Too much that he hadn’t quite understood had happened, and Peter still looked pretty out of it. He probably wouldn’t remember anything he told him. Instead, Tony ran a hand through Peter’s hair and finding it coarser than normal.

At the touch, the ever-present spark of worry flared brighter for a moment, but it eased when the glowing woman climbed up from the ladder. Her eyes found Peter and she approached, offering a small smile. “Hello. My name is Carol. Can you stand up or do you need help?”

Peter returned her smile, but said nothing. Instead, he reached for Tony’s hand with shaking fingers. Tony took it gently, cringing at how cold he felt. Whether it was from the malnourishment or the lack of thermoregulation, he wasn’t sure, but the two factors wouldn’t exactly cancel each other out.

“Earth?” Peter whispered.

“Yeah, buddy,” Tony said, trying to keep his voice even. The disbelief and comfort in what he was saying threatened to cause his voice to break. “We’re on Earth.”

“May?”

Tony tried to not let his smile fail, though in Peter’s current state of mind, whether he would have noticed or not was up for debate. “I don’t know that yet, kiddo, but c’mon – let’s get you some food.”

When Peter nodded languidly, Tony moved to help him stand up. He switched his grip so that he could take on Peter’s weight, and Carol mirrored the position on Peter’s other side. Together, they shifted Peter to his feet, and slowly, Carol led them out of the ship.

Tony tried not to think about how sharp Peter’s joints and ribs were, or about how light he was, or about how cold he was, or about how the usually energetic teen had barely said a word since they landed. They were safe, now. Nothing more could be done that wasn’t already happening. He tried to focus on the brown eyes that gained awareness with each passing second and the steady inhale and exhale of his protégé.

Moving with meticulous care, the three of them shuffled down the docking steps. Tony kept his eyes between Peter and the metal underneath their feet in order to safely maneuver them both to the ground, but he’d be lying if he said the sight of grass under the stairs didn’t bring a rush of dizzying relief with it.

Finally, they reached the ground. Carol stepped aside and was replaced by someone else. Tony looked up in confusion to see who it was and was instantly overcome with a flurry of emotion (as if he hadn’t had enough to sort through before). Hurt, guilt, and gratitude rocketed through him like lightning as he stared up into the face of Steve Rogers.

“I couldn’t stop him,” Tony blurted, as if he were trying to explain himself.

Captain America offered a grimace as he gently took hold of Peter. “Neither could I.”

Tony nodded in lieu of any words. What could he say? People create their own demons – this much he knew from experience. Thor’s family's negligence of Loki caused the Battle of New York. Tony’s own fear birthed Ultron and gave rise to the Sokovian conflict. And now? Their stubbornness had led to the deaths of countless life forms across the universe. Their demons had lashed out once again, hurting everyone around them. There was nothing _to_ say. An apology would be meaningless, an inspirational speech would be pointless, and complaints would be aimless.

But at least he had the kid. At least the kid was safe.

Another person ran up to meet them, temporarily pulling Tony’s attention from the super soldier to the familiar face of his best friend.

Rhodey smiled. “Next time you go into space, you bring me with. Got it?”

Tony laughed, tiredness washing over him like a shallow wave on the beach. “I’ll have FRIDAY set a reminder.”

“Let Steve take Peter,” Rhodey said. “I got you.”

“No,” Tony said, leaving no room for debate as he started moving towards the Compound, still managing some of the kid's weight. “Pete stays with me.”

“You look like you’re going to fall flat on your face, Tones-”

“I said _no_.”

Rhodey pressed his lips together. “Tony, we need to talk. About what happened when you were gone.”

Tony halted, causing Peter and Steve to stop moving as well. “Is...is Pepper...?”

“Let Steve take Peter,” Rhodey repeated, his voice soft. “I’ll tell you everything.”

Steve frowned. “Are you sure he should-”

“Careful with the kid,” Tony instructed, pointing a stern finger directly at the soldier’s face. “He’s low on blood sugar. Makes him cranky.” Tony shifted so that he could look into Peter’s eyes. “Kiddo, you’re gonna go with Steve and I’ll catch up with you later, all right?”

Peter’s expression took on a look of sluggish confusion. “Captain America?”

“Yep,” Tony affirmed. “Capsicle himself.”

Peter looked over at Steve. “I kicked your ass in Germany, you know.”

Steve smiled kindly. “I remember. I’m pretty sure I won, though.”

“No,” Peter retorted, as if it were the most ridiculous statement in the world. “Doesn’t count.”

“Let’s get you to the MedBay,” Cap interrupted, walking towards the Compound with Peter in tow.

“After I get, like, a milkshake and a sandwich,” Peter continued, “we’ll do a rematch, and I’ll kick your ass again. Jus’ to prove it.”

Tony smiled after the kid fondly, recognizing that Peter most likely wasn’t firing on all cylinders. He was probably tired, and coupled with the low blood sugar and dehydration, it wasn’t unlikely for him to have lost his filter.

Rhodey took Tony’s arm, his grip stable and strong. “We’ll get you moving in that direction, too.”

“I want to be with him,” Tony said as they followed after Peter and Steve. “Same room. Keep an eye on him, y’know?”

“You got it,” Rhodey returned.

Tony swallowed back his nerves and asked the question he had been dreading the answer to. “Pepper?”

Rhodey glanced at Tony’s face with regret. “Thanos.”

Incredible, how two words could nearly bring Tony to his knees. He inhaled a shaky breath and let it out. This was, in a way, what he had been preparing for. He had assumed he would never see her again back in the Benatar. He had said his goodbyes to a recording. There was only one thing that had changed: which one of them had to live without the other.

A selfish part of him wished that he had died in space.

No. He had to get Peter home. Peter could still have a life to get back to, dreams to chase down.

“What about May?” Tony asked. “May Parker. Did Thanos...?”

“No,” Rhodey answered. “Tony...Earth didn’t lose just half of the population. There were planes that fell out of the sky after their pilots had been dusted, car wrecks around the world, factory accidents, nuclear power plant malfunctions... It was chaos for the first week. When we finally started to...to get a census of who was left, the damage...”

“Spit it out, Rhodes,” Tony hissed. “Low volume. Kid has good ears.”

“May was in a pile-up,” Rhodey said in a low voice. “I don’t remember where, or how many people were involved, but it was bad. She didn’t make it out of the car.”

“So even if we can figure out how to reverse this shit, she’s not coming back?” Tony checked.

“Unless we turn back time,” Rhodey agreed.

Tony shot him a glare. “Not possible.”

Rhodey smiled at him sadly. “I know.”

They walked for a few moments in silence. Tony hated how the night air seemed quieter than he remembered it – half the number of frogs and lightning bugs, half the number of owls and crickets. There would be no getting away from it – no pretending that it hadn’t happened, no escaping the half-silence that now plagued the universe.

“What’s going to happen to the kid?” Rhodey asked.

“He’s going to get some food back in him,” Tony said. “Then he’ll...hell, I don’t know. Is school still a thing? Is crime still around?”

“Schools are out while they’re trying to replace staff,” Rhodey answered. “Bit of a boost in crime, though.”

Tony fell silent. Knowing Peter, the kid would probably want to patrol as soon as possible, but... Maybe he could revamp the Iron Legion for patrols instead. After all, Queens wasn’t the only district in the world that would need help. And Peter could pitch in, but maybe only after a few months of rest.

“You going to take him in?” Rhodey asked.

“Yeah,” Tony answered without hesitation. “I mean...he doesn’t have any family left, and... I still have that impulse buy from after Ultron.”

Rhodey grinned incredulously. “The cabin?”

“What can I say – I was jealous of Barton,” Tony said, allowing Rhodey a small returning smile. “Think Peter would like it?”

“The kid loves you, Tony,” Rhodey said. “He’ll go anywhere you go.”

“Even space,” Tony remarked morosely.

“Even space,” Rhodey agreed.

* * *

Peter hadn’t stayed awake for very long after they moved him to the MedBay. As soon as Steve lifted him onto the mattress, he was fast asleep again. Multiple people had tried to convince Tony to follow suit, gently pushing him towards another bed that Carol had moved in, but Tony was adamant about staying with Peter, and no one had the will to force him away.

Rhodey had offered the compromise of a wheelchair, an IV to fight the dehydration, and some food, and Tony had readily agreed.

Just so long as they didn’t make him move.

Steve, Carol, Bruce, and Rhodey had left them alone after getting the pair of them set up, but Tony knew it was only a temporary break from all of the responsibilities that came with being “Earth’s mightiest heroes” ( _the heroes that hadn’t been enough when it mattered_ , whispered a bitter voice). Soon enough, they’d come back to get him – Steve had always been a stickler for debriefing as soon as possible after a finished mission.

But for that moment, Tony decided that he wouldn’t worry about anything in the future.

He slowly worked his way through a bowl of oatmeal, keeping the spoon in one hand and gripping Peter’s cadaverous fingers in the other hand.

The room was quiet, apart from the steady hum of machinery and the occasional scrape of spoon against bowl as Tony ate. He had Bruce turn off the heart rate monitor's beeping so that Peter wouldn’t wake up, but it was turned towards Tony for his peace of mind. He watched it as he ate, occasionally looking at the IV dripping beside Peter’s bed as well.

Steady. Patterned. Everything was functioning. Things were being fixed.

There was a quick, irregular knock at the door. Tony slid on the sunglasses that Rhodey had left for him, grateful for the confidence boost that came with them.

He looked over his shoulder at the door, where Rhodey was standing, waiting. “Yes, honey bear?”

“Cap called a meeting,” Rhodey said quietly.

Tony smirked. “Which captain?”

“The one who is the captain of actual people,” Rhodey returned.

“Ooh, is somebody not fond of genderbent Maverick?” Tony teased. “Pete has a saying for this – ‘spill the tea’, Rhodey.”

Rhodey raised an eyebrow. “I appreciate that she rescued you, and I can respect what she’s doing in the universe, but she’s not part of a team, and she didn’t even try to stop Thanos when he was picking up infinity stones. Last I checked, she wasn’t there when he killed off a planet to get the first stone. So yeah, forgive me if I don’t ‘follow her lead’.”

“That’s some gossip, right there,” Tony remarked. “I’ll be sure to tell her.”

Rhodey tensed up. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I’ll do it if you don’t lower your voice and let the kid sleep,” Tony assured him, casting a glance to where Peter was lying still, breathing deeply.

Rhodey nodded. “Mind if I roll you out?”

Tony gave a sweeping gesture with a withered wrist. “Be my guest.”

* * *

Tony knew how it felt to be Too Tired For This Shit, so he recognized that he was going to have a temper to reign in during the next required social time.

He thought he was composed. He went in, IV bag swinging above his head, prepared to graciously receive an apology from Steve Rogers. After all, that’s where everything had gone wrong. They hadn’t been together when disaster had struck – when being together had really mattered – and what Tony had warned about for years finally came to pass.

Catastrophe.

So, he would get an apology, the team would make a game plan, and then he could go back to Peter.

Lo and behold, Mr. Righteous didn’t start the meeting with taking responsibility, as he probably should have, and as Tony had expected him to. Steve was always one to be proactive – to shove the past in a box, because nothing could be done about it. But the past was what led up to the present, and when Steve had turned on Tony, asking him for information as if he had gone on some sort of... _scouting mission_ , Tony snapped.

He threw the food he was eating to the floor, ripped the nanobot container from his chest, and shoved it at Steve.

He wanted Iron Man’s help? He could _have_ Iron Man. But as of that moment, Tony Stark and Iron Man were two different people.

He had tried to save the world.

He had _been trying_ for years, unable to stop because nothing could ever be peaceful. There was always someone else with a chip on their shoulder, someone else with their own agenda.

He had tried to save his world, and he had lost it. _That Earth_ was gone, and it had taken Pepper with it. _This_ _Earth_ , the one that he had come back to - it was a different world, and he was no longer responsible for it.

There was only so much he could do.

Only so much he could say.

The last thing he remembered was falling to his knees, insisting he was fine.

And then, he blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the feeling in Endgame that Rhodey had serious beef with Carol and I thought it was hilarious. And, I mean, she’s basically plot convenience in that movie, and her solo film didn't show her personality. Hhhhhhhh I hate that I was disappointed by her movie but she deserves better. All the female characters do tbh. All the other guys’ movies show who they are first and what they do second. Marvel’s done me dirty.
> 
> But yes, I know that in canon, RhodeyxCarol is a thing. You can read this as "enemies to lovers" or as "no slash" - up to interpretation. Romantic relationships are not the focus of this particular fic. Meanwhile, I'm just gonna be in my little ace/aro!Carol corner...feel free to join...
> 
> Thanks for reading!!! I hope you guys liked it!!! Let me know your favorite part so far in the comments!
> 
> Next chapter next Monday, July 22, at 6PM EST


	4. one loves the sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You see, one loves the sunset when one is so sad.” 
> 
> – "The Little Prince", by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so well. Granted, being forced into unconsciousness by exhaustion and malnourishment wasn’t exactly something that could happen every day, but it served as a great way for someone to get knocked off their ass for a long time.

When he woke up, the first thing he saw was the white ceiling above him. Now, it was true that the Compound had many such ceilings, but taking what had just happened into account, Tony guessed that he was in the MedBay, lying on the extra bed Carol had moved in. The blanket that someone had put over him was tucked tightly on both sides of the bed – whether that was as a comfort or as a deterrent for getting up and moving around, Tony wasn’t sure. It was probably a bit of both.

“Mr. Stark?” someone croaked.

Tony’s head snapped to Peter’s bed so fast that black spots clouded his vision. Once his sight cleared, he couldn’t stop a small smile from creeping onto on his face.

There, lying in the bed not five feet away, was Peter. He still looked gaunt, and probably would for a long time, but at least he seemed to be able to focus on what was going on around him. Bruce had mentioned that Peter would probably take longer to get back to full health. After all, on a good day, he needed more food than the average person, and on top of that, all of the nutrients they gave him were quickly metabolized. And they couldn’t risk giving him too much food at once for fear of making him sick. There was some sort of diet plan in the works, but Bruce had yet to hand it off to Tony.

Peter also had multiple blankets covering him, plus a long-sleeved sweater. It looked like it was a generic Stark Industries sweatshirt, but he couldn’t be sure since most of it was hidden underneath the covers. Peter’s sudden interest in Quill’s jackets came to mind, and Tony made a mental reminder to buy the kid an arsenal of thick, soft clothing.

“Colonel Rhodes said he’d be back later,” Peter said softly, still getting used to using his voice. “They were going to kill Thanos.”

Tony huffed a laugh and squirmed to find a more comfortable position on the MedBay bed. “A revenge mission, huh? Didn’t think Cap was the type.”

“Half of the Avengers are gone,” Peter said. “I don’t think they know what else to do.”

Peter’s voice had a note of sincerity that made Tony look back over at him. The kid laid still, worrying his lip at the ceiling in thought. Tony decided to remain silent instead of prompting him.

Finally, Peter looked back at Tony. “Did you find out what happened to May?”

“Rhodey...” Tony stopped, collecting his thoughts. This was not a conversation that he had been looking forward to, to say the least, and he had hoped he’d be able to have it when they were both more... _stable_. Though, he supposed Peter would need to know. It was only fair, and then he could focus on getting back on his feet again.

They would just need to get through this.

He pulled the blanket off and climbed out of the MedBay bed, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress and pushing himself over to Peter. The IV needle stung as it ripped out of his hand, but he ignored it and eased himself up onto the kid’s bed, settling next to Peter’s hip as the teenager watched him expectantly.

Tony took a moment, trying to decide whether this was a ‘Band-Aid’ situation, where it’d be better to just get it out and be done with it, or if this particular topic needed more delicacy. He settled, for once, on taking it slow.

“Thanos halved Earth’s population,” Tony said. “Doctors, mothers, police officers – there’s half of them left. But you could guess that, right?”

Peter nodded, so Tony continued. “There were...other people who got caught up in...everything. Rhodey says that everything pretty much went to hell when people started disappearing. People, turns out, actually do a lot in terms of keeping other people safe. Police keep crime rates low, doctors help keep people from dying when they’re not supposed to...you know this.” Peter nodded again.

Here came the hard part.

Tony sniffed and broke eye contact, but he could still feel Peter’s gaze trained on him like a sniper observing a target. “There... A lot of people... Thanos...”

“Just say it,” Peter said softly.

Tony looked up to find Peter’s eyelids lined with tears that threatened to fall. He hated that he had to be the one to give him a reason to cry, but the kid deserved to know, and maybe, somewhere inside, Peter already knew what he had to say.

“There was an accident,” Tony said, his voice wobbling traitorously. “Massive pile up. May was...”

He couldn’t. He trailed off, like a coward.

The tears slid down Peter’s cheeks. “She died.”

Tony nodded.

Peter looked at his hands, not even attempting to wipe away the tears as they fell. “This is all my fault.”

 _That_ brought a reaction. Tony sat up, ramrod straight. “No. No, none of this-”

“If I had _just stayed on the bus,_ ” Peter whispered, as if talking to himself, “I would have been here. I can- I’m Spider-Man. I can catch cars, turn planes- I could have stopped so many people from... I could have saved her-”

“Pete, you can’t think like that,” Tony said. “Thanos did this. He’s the one-”

“And she’ll never...” Peter choked on a sob. “She can’t come back, even if there was some way to reverse...what he did, she’ll... She’s _gone._ ”

Tony gave up on trying to talk Peter out of the hysteria into which he threatened to descend. Instead, he leaned forward and pulled Peter towards him, holding him close. He was still too thin and too cold, and now his whole body was shaking as he cried. Tony threaded a hand through Peter’s hair.

He muttered reassurances, promises, anything he could think of that would calm him down, but it was as if he wasn’t speaking at all. Peter reacted to nothing he said, and if the growing wet spot on his shoulder was anything to go by, Peter would cry himself into dehydration before he settled down.

Maybe it was May.

Maybe it was a reaction to being malnourished.

Maybe it was the delayed reaction of losing their most important battle yet.

Maybe it was everything.

Whatever the reason for the tears, it weighed on Peter heavily. The episode lasted for a solid twenty minutes before Tony had to obey the demands of his aching joints and move so that he was beside the kid instead of sitting in front of him. Another fifteen minutes of incoherent grief later, the exhausted Peter gave in to sleep, still clutching Tony like a lifeline – like he was the only solid thing he had left.

In a way, he was.

Only when Tony was sure the kid was out for good did he allow himself to grieve. Pepper- gosh. It seemed like he had just seen her, her hair effortlessly tied back and her blue eyes gazing at him with a smile. She could have kept her head above water in any situation. If she were here, she could probably sort everything out and put the world on its feet again.

But she wasn’t. She was gone, and with her went the majority of the light in his life – the light he had depended on since returning from Afghanistan however many years ago.

So much loss, so quickly. It would stunt the growth of humanity for at least a decade.

Tony pressed a kiss into the hair of the sleeping Peter and made up his mind; he was going to take in the kid, and they would move out to the cabin that he had saved for some far-off retirement. Happy could go manage fixing it up – if Happy was still left- was Happy among the vanished? Tony hoped not. He couldn’t handle losing two people he held close that quickly.

But _somebody_ would go fix it up, clear out the cobwebs and whatnot, buy some furniture, move out some board games and whatever the hell you needed in a cabin. Tony could finish up Peter’s education himself. He had the PhDs, after all, and could teach himself subjects overnight easily.

“It’s gonna be different,” Tony whispered into Peter’s hair, “but it’s gonna be okay. Everything’s gonna be all right. I promise.”

* * *

Tony must have drifted off, because the next time he was awake, Rhodey was knocking softly on the doorframe.

“We’re back,” Rhodey whispered, entering the room with a tray of food. “Space is shit.”

“Space is shit,” Tony agreed quietly, mindful of the sleeping kid that was laying against him. “How was Thanos?”

“He didn’t have as long of a retirement as maybe he thought he would,” he said. He put the tray of food down onto a nearby table. “Thor pulled a medieval execution on him.”

“The stones?” Tony probed.

Rhodey grimaced. “Don’t exist anymore. He destroyed them – and wrecked the gauntlet.”

Tony took a breath. On one hand, at least no one would ever go after the stones again. This sort of loss would never happen again. But on the other hand, it meant that there was no chance of getting those who vanished back.

Pepper was gone.

And there wasn’t even a body to bury.

“What about Happy?” Tony asked, his throat tight. “Did he make it?”

“He’s been working on fixing up the cabin you mentioned,” Rhodey answered.

A surge of gratefulness rose through Tony. Not for the first time, he thanked whoever was responsible for his life for placing great friends in his path.

“You gonna wake him up to eat?” Rhodey asked, nodding at Peter.

Tony looked over at the kid, registering the pallid skin, fluttering eyelashes, and the tear tracks that remained on his thin cheeks. He had been slowly putting on a little weight, but it would be better if he could move to solids.

Still, Tony couldn’t bring himself to wake Peter. The fact that Peter had yet to stir was enough to convince Tony of how tired the kid was.

“I’ll wake him up later,” Tony decided. “He asked about May.”

Rhodey frowned. “What did you tell him?”

“The truth,” Tony answered. “He’s earned that.”

“He’s been through a lot,” Rhodey agreed.

The two fell silent, left with nothing else to say. And yet, there was comfort in their silence. Rhodey’s dependable presence remained vigilant, like a sentinel. Peter’s breathing remained deep and even – a dependable constant and much-needed reminder that his kid was safe and steadily recovering. Eventually, Rhodey approached and gently gripped Tony’s shoulder. “We’re gonna make it,” he said.

Tony nodded, not trusting his voice to sound without cracking. Rhodey seemed to get the message and offered a smile before he went back out of the room.

Tony took a deep breath, turning his face so that it was pressed into Peter’s hair.

They were gonna make it.

Somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...was that in character
> 
> Thank you guys so much for the consistent comments! They keep me going. They really do. You guys are the best <3
> 
> We are over halfway my dudes! That's awesome. I know that this chapter is kind-of shorter than the last two, but the next two makes up for it. By like, a lot. And I still need to finish them oh boy
> 
> Next chapter on Monday! July 29! 6PM EST! You know it!


	5. a sort of quietness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “If you’ve been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you – you will know that there comes in the end a sort of quietness. You feel as if nothing was ever going to happen again.” 
> 
> – "The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe", by C.S. Lewis

When Peter woke up around an hour later, he seemed drained. He woke up in a haze, said very little, and kept his eyes down the entire time. It was an uphill battle just trying to convince the kid to eat something. Peter finished all of the food that Rhodey had brought for him, though, so Tony took that as a good sign.

Banner probably had the dietary plan by now. Tony made a mental note to go after him and ask about it. After all, they would need access to it going forward.

Finally, after almost an hour of little action and even less speech, Peter spoke, startling Tony from his train of thought. “What’s... What’s going to happen to me? I mean, I’m...not eighteen.”

“You’re stuck with me, kiddo,” Tony said without hesitation. “We’ll go out of the city – at least for a bit – and then start helping to fix things up after that.” He relayed the plan as though there was nothing more certain in life, and at that moment, there wasn’t. The next step – _their_ next step – was set in stone. He hoped that Peter picked up on that reliability.

When Peter didn’t say anything, Tony looked down at where the kid was still pressed against his side. “Pete?”

“I can’t,” Peter said.

Tony frowned. That definitely hadn’t been what he was expecting. “Can’t what?”

“You do this,” Peter said. “All the time. You get... you get scared, or guilty for something, and you just...you do anything you can to try and fix everything and... It’s not fair that you’re using me as a way to ease your guilt! I don’t... It’s _not fair_ -”

Tony scrambled to discredit what the teenager had said. “Kid, I’m not doing this out of guilt. I’m done with that. I really do want you to come with me – no tricks, no guilt, nothing.”

Peter looked up at Tony, and Tony saw that the kid was struggling to keep his emotions in check, lip trembling and eyes wide, imploring him to tell the truth. “Don’t...don’t say that,” Peter whispered. “It’s not fair.”

“Peter,” Tony said, chuckling in confusion, “if you don’t want to live with me, that’s _fine_ -”

“No, I want to- _Stop it!_ ” Peter ordered.

There were few times in Tony’s life where he was speechless. Usually, he babbled instead. But at that moment? He found himself so caught off guard that his voice (wisely) decided to quit working.

Peter took that as an invitation to continue. “I know you don’t actually want to live with me and it’s not fair for you to say that when that’s _exactly what I want to do_!” Peter abruptly sniffled and wiped his face, scrubbing tears from his cheeks. “You can’t...you can’t taunt me with that. It’s...it’s not fair... After...after _everything_...” Peter buried his face in the covers, gripping his knees with bony arms, his back shaking with the force of his crying.

And Tony hated it. He hated that life had been so heartless to Peter Parker, who did nothing but open his heart for others.

Peter Parker, who had almost sacrificed himself for Tony’s sake on the Benatar.

Ever since half the universe was turned to dust, there had been this sense of helplessness clinging to those who were left. Thanos had been a chilling reminder of the things in life that were unavoidable, unmistakable. The things that people chose not to believe in, because the truth was frightening.

The truth was that people weren’t in control of what happened to them, and no matter what they did – no matter how many suits they built, or soldiers they trained – there was something out there, someone who was more powerful than they could ever be. And when he finally showed up, it had been everything Tony feared it would be. He cared nothing for life or consequences. He was self-righteous, and would never do anything out of kindness. Honestly, Tony highly doubted that the Titan ever could – you had to have empathy for kindness, and now the universe knew there was no shred of empathy in that monster. He sat on whatever twisted throne he made for himself, playing god and declaring his actions to be merciful. Thanos was no god; he was a tyrant.

At least you can kill those.

Now, only the little things were left. Little broken things – like the limp, monochrome body of Vision, kept somewhere in the building on the off chance that he can be reactivated – and like what was left of “Earth’s Mightiest Heroes”, who still stayed at the Compound because there was a comfort in staying with those who had survived (even though it forcibly reminded them of those who had not) – and like Peter.

And damn it if he was going to put all of his effort into helping one of those things mend.

Tony pushed himself up to a sitting position so that he was shoulder-to-shoulder with Peter and draped an arm across the kid’s quaking form.

“Eyes up here, buddy,” Tony said softly. Peter dutifully looked up at him, brown eyes briefly holding eye contact before sliding away again. Oh well. He would take what he could get. “I’m not teasing you. If you want to live with me, then _I_ want you with me. It’s not out of pity. It’s not out of guilt. It’s...” _because I love you._ But he trailed off, finding himself unprepared for his dangerous admission.

He switched tactics instead. “You’re my kid. Not biologically, or legally, but you’re my responsibility. I hate that you’ve had to have four guardians in your life, but I can’t change that. What I can do, is...is give you a home, food, clothes, and...whatever else you need.”

Peter watched him, looking for any signs of insincerity. “Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be sure? Have you ever known me to be unsure about literally anything in my life?”

_You second guess everything, you hypocrite_ , Tony berated himself, but he ignored his own criticisms. There would be enough time for self-abhorrence later. He needed to focus on his kid.

“I just...” Peter started, eyes ducking again. “Everyone else has...they’ve...they are all gone. Just...please don’t leave me, too.” He whispered the last part, as if saying it too loudly would set off some catastrophic event, or would scare Tony off.

Tony shoved aside his personal discomfort with affection and planted a kiss on Peter’s forehead, wrapping him in his arms and pulling him close. There was still not enough muscle mass on the kid’s frame, but it would be enough to get them out of the MedBay.

Peter shakily returned the hug, and Tony detested the fact that the kid was still being cautious. He supposed that it was only natural – losing four parents tended to do that to a person – but it still pained him. It was too similar to the way he shook from the cold in Quill’s jackets, the way he shuffled back to the Compound when Carol finally brought them home.

This new world was just that: new. They would be starting either from scratch, or from the ruins of the old world. Tony had Rhodey. He had Happy. He had the Compound, which was like a second home. He had his dream of retirement in his grasp. Peter...Peter had lost everything.

“I don’t want you to go,” Peter hiccupped. “Please don’t go. Don’t leave.”

Tony Stark – brilliant inventor and billionaire – he couldn’t help Peter. Iron Man – hero of justice and personification of self-sacrifice and intellect – he couldn’t help Peter. But Mr. Stark...maybe Mr. Stark could do something.

“I’m not leaving, kiddo,” Tony said quietly, next to Peter’s ear. “You’re gonna be fighting me off even after you go to college.”

Peter shook his head against Tony’s shoulder, but said nothing.

Tony rubbed his thumb against Peter’s arm. “Y’know, I was thinking that we should get away from these Avenger pricks, so Happy’s setting up a cabin I bought a few years ago,” he went on. “He’ll take us there tomorrow, right after lunch. I’ll let you pick your room first, too. And if you want to finish your high school diploma, I can teach you anything. And I can teach you how to build an engine in the garage, and you can teach me how a kitchen works, and we can do whatever you’d like to do. It’ll be just us. Some quality mentor-mentee time. You know, that might be a bad idea. You might hate my personality after, what, a month? A week? Ten bucks says you’ll be sick of my jokes in three days. Four days, tops.”

It really was a pathetic attempt to get Peter to smile – a joke when there was nothing to be laughing at left in the world – but the kid huffed a breathy chuckle, and Tony counted it as a win.

* * *

The next day, after they had finished eating lunch and Peter had managed to change into Avengers-brand sweats (which Tony had planted so long ago in the only unclaimed bedroom of the Compound that he had originally reserved for Peter), Bruce and a decidedly grimmer Steve brought in two wheelchairs. Tony, of course, refused to take one, and, to his surprise, the usually equally stubborn Steve allowed him to walk instead, using Peter’s wheelchair as a sort-of walker. The kid, in contrast, offered no protest as Steve helped maneuver him into the chair.

Tony gently pat Peter’s bony shoulder. “You ready, kiddo?”

Peter nodded, but before they could move, Steve put out a hand. “Before you leave, I know some people that wanted to meet you.”

As much as Tony wanted to vehemently refuse, he caught sight of the light that returned to Peter’s face, however faint it may have been. “The other Avengers?” Peter asked, his voice quiet.

A brief twinge of sadness passed over Steve’s face, but he hid it with that traditional Captain America bravado. “Not...all of them. But they’re waiting in the break room if you want to meet them.”

Peter started to nod, but he stopped and looked back at Tony. “Can we?”

The idea of facing his old friends again tied knots in Tony’s stomach, but the louder voice in his head reminded him of the world they lived in now – a world where happy things were rare, and should be taken advantage of, and if letting Peter meet his childhood heroes made him happy, then he was going to shove aside his own discomfort and let the kid meet them.

He nodded stiffly. “They’re a bunch of crazy people, but sure. I’m sure Happy’ll wait for us.”

“We don’t have to,” Peter said meekly, shrinking into himself.

“Nah, kid, Happy gets paid to wait for me. He’s probably glad that he doesn’t have to be in the car just yet – it’s kind of a long drive,” Tony said hastily.

“And you don’t have to stay for long,” Steve added, nodding at Tony. “They just want to meet you. It doesn’t have to be an event.”

_Sure,_ Tony thought to himself. _NOW he’s on my side._

Peter looked back at Tony. “I think that would be fun.”

“All right, then we’ll do it,” Tony said resolutely, pushing the wheelchair towards the elevator.

Bruce and Steve followed behind, holding elevator doors and pushing buttons so that Tony didn’t have to let go of the wheelchair and Peter didn’t have to reach. Tony didn’t protest against the help – the journey from MedBay to break room wasn’t very far, but he hadn’t exactly had enough exercise to keep himself from stumbling if it weren’t for the help of Peter’s wheelchair.

When Steve said that the other Avengers were waiting, Tony thought that meant they were open to meeting Peter – not that they were quite literally sitting around in the break room, waiting for Tony and Peter to arrive. As soon as the two entered the room, all heads looked up.

Tony had noticed the depleted numbers before, but now, with the chance of any sort of rescue mission now completely out the window, there was a taciturn weight that hung from the survivors’ shoulders. Rhodey stood on one end of the room, looking like he had been deep in thought with two fingers gripping his chin. Thor sat in one of the chairs, slightly detached from the group and hunched over, sitting next to a plate of pure carbohydrates and some sort of drink (given Thor’s background and what had just happened, Tony could guess it was some sort of alcohol). It took him a second to recognize Nat, what with the new blonde look, but her eyes were unmistakable – a sharp green that dazzled and unnerved you at the same time so that you had no choice but to keep looking at them.

Natasha was the first to look up, followed by an uncharacteristically silent Thor, but Rhodey was the one to approach the two. “Hi, Peter,” he said, his voice as kind as it had been when Tony first met his best friend at MIT. “I don’t know if Tony’s mentioned me, but I’m Rhodey. Self-proclaimed best-friend of Iron Man.”

And Peter smiled. There was a part of Tony that relaxed instantly upon seeing that smile – it meant that, somewhere inside Peter, wounds were healing. Things could be okay again. “You’re War Machine. Or-! Sorry! Is it Iron Patriot, still?”

Rhodey breathed a laugh. “No, ditched that one a long time ago.”

“Oh,” Peter said, smile returning. “I’m- I’m Peter. Parker. Spider-Man. And now I look stupid because you probably already knew that.”

“Tony doesn’t exactly keep you a secret,” Rhodey agreed.

The tips of Peter’s ears reddened, and Tony hastily moved to save his reputation. “I gotta complain about you to somebody, kiddo,” he joked. He ruffled Peter’s hair to let him know that he was kidding and moved to sit down on a chair that Steve had helpfully moved over. As soon as his weight was off his feet, he felt instantly better.

Huh. Maybe a wheelchair wasn’t such a bad idea.

“I don’t know if I’ve heard as much,” said Natasha, standing and moving to greet Peter, “but I’ve only heard good things.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “You’re-”

“Natasha Romanoff,” Nat introduced. And- was that a smile? Of course it was; the kid’s energy was infectious, even if he wasn’t quite back to his full dorky self yet. “It’s nice to meet you, Peter.”

“I-i-t’s nice too. To meet you, it’s also nice, I mean,” Peter stuttered.

Tony squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “Nicely done, Pete.”

Peter’s blush returned in full force.

“This is the one the American spoke of?” Thor asked, standing up and brushing crumbs from his clothes. “I knew the Man of Spiders was a fearsome opponent, from the American’s brief account of the fight over the Accords, but...well, how old are you, Man of Spiders?”

“Sixteen,” Peter breathed, sounding winded and keeping his eyes locked on the Asgardian. “Seventeen in...in...uh- August! Seventeen in August.”

Thor came over as well, opting for patting Peter on the head instead of shaking his hand. “Then you still have growth in your skills. I have no doubt you’ll be a formidable warrior.”

Oh boy. Tony could only guess what that statement meant to Peter, but he knew for a fact that it meant a lot. His thoughts were confirmed when he looked at Peter and saw his eyes widen and the beginnings of a bright smile pull at his cheeks.

“Th-thank you, Mis-ster Thor,” Peter whispered, sniffling to keep tears back. “That m-m-means a lot to me.”

Thor smiled gently. “Of course.”

He missed this. Oh, how Tony had missed this. All of the original members (except, of course, the retired one) were standing together again, not fighting over something or against someone...he hadn’t felt this at peace since...maybe since the party, just before Ultron. He didn’t want to let the feeling go again.

Besides, it was a new world, wasn’t it? He had salvaged his new home and his two best friends from his old life – maybe he could salvage his team, too.

Tony snapped his fingers. “Just had an idea. A brilliant one, actually. Why don’t you all come by the house in a little while? After we get moved in and everything, but, I mean, if you guys want to drop in, we could do a team lunch, or something. Maybe you could teach Pete a thing or two about close combat. He’s terrible.”

“I-I-I’m self-taught,” Peter hastily amended, trying to save face. It put an amused grin on everyone’s expressions.

Steve caught Tony’s eye and nodded, features soft. “We’ll plan to. Definitely.”

* * *

It took a short while to actually get out of the break room – there was a lot of non-mission-related catching-up to do, and the Avengers seemed to be particularly interested in Tony’s new charge. It seemed like Peter’s energy was doing good for team morale, and in turn, the team itself was improving Peter’s mood.

But damn, if he knew Thor would so quickly become Peter’s new favorite, he would have hesitated a little bit more before bringing the kid to the room.

There seemed to be a lot of laughter from where they were, and it seemed to fit a sort of pattern. Peter would tell Thor jokes, the Asgardian would laugh, admit that he had no idea what Peter was talking about, and Peter would explain the joke. Thor would then laugh twice as hard, and demand that Peter tell another joke.

And so, the vicious cycle continued.

Eventually, even Nat was caught with a grin on her face, which – upon being called out for it – she turned into a calculating, borderline patronizing look, and thus the topic was shut down.

When Tony realized that the conversations had gone on for nearly an hour, he decided that they had kept Happy waiting long enough. They said their goodbyes and left the group of heroes, ready to start the long trip ahead of them.

Odd. That silent weight that Tony had noticed when he first came into the room didn’t seem to be around anymore.

* * *

They reached the car to find that Happy had everything packed up already. He stood, leaning back against the backseat doors, when he caught sight of them exiting the building.

Tony would have made fun of the relieved smile that was plastered across his bodyguard’s face – that is, if he didn’t have one to match.

“Hey, Happy,” Peter said, his voice full of that consoled warmth.

“Peter,” Happy nodded respectfully in greeting. “Boss.”

Tony stepped away from Peter’s wheelchair shakily. “C’mere.” Without allowing himself to really hesitate and think about his actions, he hugged Happy tightly, gripping the back of the man’s ever-present blazer. To his surprise, Happy said nothing – just held him tightly in return.

“I was...really worried about you two, for a few weeks there,” Happy confessed.

“Well, I hope that you don’t hate us for making you into our interior decorator for the last few days,” Tony joked.

Happy laughed, pulling away from the hug but offering an arm to support his barely-standing boss. “Well, you’re the ones that’ll have to actually _live_ in it.”

“I’m sensing some redecorating in our future,” Tony said, looking back to where Peter was sitting as Happy opened the door and helped Tony into the backseat.

“I don’t want to hurt Happy’s feelings,” Peter said, with an apologetic glance to the man in question.

Happy shrugged. “It’s your house, kid. You can blow it up for all I care. That’s what Tony did with his last house, anyway.”

Tony gave Happy a faux look of annoyance and shut the car door himself. Happy’s laugh was muffled by the car’s makeup, but it was still unmistakable.

Maybe things would be okay.

He waited as Happy wheeled Peter around to the other side of the car and carefully maneuvered him into the backseat with Tony, but as soon as the door closed, he moved next to his kid and put an arm around him, securing him in place.

Peter looked up at him. “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready, but you’re not,” Tony said. Confusion took over Peter’s face until Tony pointed at his shoulder. “Seatbelt, mister.”

* * *

They had been driving for almost two hours, with Tony doing most of the talking. That was fine – he usually did most of the talking – but when they stopped for some quality cheeseburgers on the way, Tony stopped filling the silence in order to finish his food. The worrying thing was that, as he was throwing away the remains of his dinner, he noticed that Peter still held his burger in his hand, unopened.

Tony pointed to it. “You should eat up, kiddo. You’re not quite back to your normal self yet. This may be the only time in your life where the health qualities of a classical American burger will actually benefit you.”

“I’m not hungry right now,” Peter whispered.

Tony watched him for a moment, trying to gauge whether he was telling the truth or a lie. “All right,” he conceded, gently prying the uneaten fast food from Peter’s loose grip. “Later.”

“It doesn’t feel like she’s dead,” Peter said quietly.

That...okay. Heavy conversation time. He had expected these to come at the cabin – but if he could ease Peter’s grief before they even got there, then...

Tony chose to say nothing, instead slinging an arm over Peter’s shoulders and pulling the kid against his ribs.

Peter grabbed Tony’s free hand with one of his own and continued. “It’s like...she’s just...not here. Like she’s just living somewhere else. It was like that for my...when my parents died too.”

“Not Ben?” Tony probed.

Peter shook his head. “No. I think it’s... I saw Ben die. There was something that changed when that happened. But with my parents...and...and M-May... One day, they’re...they’re j-just...right in front of me, y’know? A-a-and then they just...aren’t.”

Tony squeezed Peter’s shoulders in reassurance. “It’s all right, kiddo,” Tony said. “I know what you’re trying to say.”

Peter sniffed and let go of Tony’s hand to wrap his arms around his middle instead. “Yeah.”

* * *

Tony remained lost in thought for the rest of the drive, staring out the window until Happy finally rolled up to the dimly lit cabin that Tony vaguely recognized. The bodyguard shut off the car and turned around to face his boss and the teenager sleeping with his face pillowed on Tony’s legs.

“You gonna wake him up?” Happy asked in a low voice.

Tony shook his head. “I’ll carry him.”

Happy shot him a look. “ _I’ll_ carry him. _You’ll_ hobble along beside me.”

Tony allowed a small grin to show, too tired to argue. “That sounds more accurate.”

Satisfied, Happy nodded curtly and got out of the car, making his way over to the door on Peter’s side as Tony carefully undid the seatbelt and lifted Peter so that he was sitting up.

And that’s how Tony learned that Peter was a relatively light sleeper.

Peter’s eyes fluttered open and settled on Tony. “Misser Sark?”

“Pretty sure my name has a few more ‘t’s in there, kiddo,” Tony jested, though he doubted Peter was awake enough to remember this conversation for later.

Peter blinked, and his eyes only halfway opened back up. “Are we home?”

Tony tried to ignore the sudden overwhelming urge to grin like an idiot, but ultimately failed. _Home._ “Yeah, Pete. We’re home.”

Peter hummed, but didn’t say anything else – not when Happy lifted him out of the vehicle so he could cling to the man like a koala; not when Happy set him on his feet and bid them a warm goodnight; not when Tony guided him into the room Happy had painstakingly set up for the Star-Wars-loving teenager.

Tony gently pushed Peter so that he was lying on the bed, his head swallowed by soft pillows. “Go to sleep.”

“Mmm...okay,” Peter sluggishly decided, his eyes already closed.

Tony brushed a few stray curls from Peter’s forehead, taking extra care not to jostle him too much. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

* * *

After he had put Peter to bed, Tony found his room looking completely different from his usual bedroom – a fact that he was grateful for now. If he had been faced with the wire lamps Pepper had picked out, or the oak dresser that Pepper kept her favorite old t-shirts in-

Tony sniffed, forcing back the urge to tear up and moving to change into something more comfortable – in this case, a faded Metallica t-shirt and grey drawstring pants. He knew from experience that grief sometimes took a long time to run its course, but a part of him had hoped that he would be able to leave most of his emotional baggage behind. The “new start” was supposed to skip at least the first three stages of grief.

Another part of him reminded him that his last “new start” in early 1992 hadn’t solved anything. It had merely allowed his grief to fester under years of alcohol until it exploded in his face, tearing his friends apart and ultimately leading to a catastrophic defeat that resulted in the sudden death of half the universe.

But he wasn’t to blame for that.

Right?

Whatever. He was too tired to face it right now. And, as Peter had pointed out, he could probably find a reason to feel guilty faster than someone could snap their fingers.

That was a poor analogy.

Tony rubbed at his face, feeling the scratchy texture of his goatee and focusing on that instead of dwelling on his thoughts. If he hoped to get any sleep that night, he would need to somehow make the voice in his head shut up.

He shut off all the lights in the room save the floor lamp beside the bed and peeled back the covers, fully prepared to just lay down and try to slip into sleep as fast as possible.

Hilarious – the insomniac trying to fall asleep quickly. If Tony wasn’t the butt of the joke, he may have found it funny.

He sat down on the mattress but froze when he caught sight of Peter, still dressed in those Avengers sweats and peeking through the doorway.

“Oh,” Peter managed, his wide eyes giving him a deer-in-the-headlights look. “I- uh, I was...just...”

Tony smiled to himself fondly. “Come on in, kiddo,” he said, gesturing for Peter to move into the room. “Close the door behind you.”

Peter’s expression eased, and he shuffled into the room, softly pushing the door shut. Keeping close to the wall, he hurriedly made his way to the bed, his form hunched – as if he didn’t want to draw attention. Tony flipped back the covers and they both settled in.

With a sharp click, Tony turned the lamp off and laid back into the pillows. Without prompting, Peter scooted closer so that he could fit under Tony’s arm and rest his head on his shoulder. He was still a little cold to the touch – so much so that his nose and ears felt like they were maybe three degrees away from being frozen. Tony wrapped an arm around Peter, as if he were securing him in place, and pulled the comforter up so that it was fully covering Peter’s shoulders.

And then they were silent, both listening to the crickets out in the grass and the cicadas in the trees, trying to ignore the fact that it was only half as loud as it should have been.

Tony rubbed his thumb against Peter’s shoulder, realizing that, strangely enough, it felt natural to have him so close by.

They had been doing this a lot, lately. It had started on the ship, when the air and the metal around them had been cold and unfamiliar. The faint scent of strawberry shampoo in Peter’s hair had been comforting, and the weight of Peter’s head and shoulders against his stomach was reassuring. The reminder of gravity when in space had had more of an effect on his mental stability than he had originally thought.

It would make sense that the practice of being near to each other would continue at the Compound – a home that had become hostile to Tony ever since the conflict over the Sokovia Accords. Though, after today, it might not feel that way forever. Maybe they could fix things.

He had always been good at fixing things.

Too many things had happened in the past twenty-four hours, so Tony broke them down by picking out all of the reasons to smile. He quickly identified a pattern.

_Peter’s reaction to meeting the other Avengers._

_Peter smiling._

_Peter laughing._

_Peter._

He was a light that had come through the darkness – somewhat dimmer than he used to be, perhaps, but not for long. Today was evidence enough of that. But Peter himself – his eyes, his smiles, his hugs, his existence – was a reason to smile.

_Just say it. If it isn’t obvious already, it will be. Just say it._

Tony pressed a kiss into Peter’s hair and took a deep breath. _You were wrong about why I want you around, kiddo,_ Tony thought. _It’s not out of pity. It’s not out of guilt. It’s because-_ “I love you.”

Peter took Tony’s free hand and gently squeezed. “Love you, too.”

It was such a simple phrase, but it knocked the breath from Tony’s lungs long enough for a ridiculous smile to sneak onto his face.

And half of the world’s population of crickets kept chirping, and half of the owls hooted, and half of the frogs creaked.

But at least he had Rhodey, and Happy, and his old teammates.

At least he had Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is so much fluff in this w o w.
> 
> IM SO SORRY THIS IS A WEEK LATE
> 
> Long story short, I was trying to get this uploaded like, a week ago, when my computer died before I could do anything. And then when I plugged it in, lo and behold, my CHARGER died. So I had to wait for a new one, and I live in the middle of nowhere. Wonderful.
> 
> I almost couldn't post this chapter today - I get these weird abdominal migraines (yes it's a thing, yes its weird, yes it sucks) and so I've been pretty much on the brink of fainting all day, but I'm just going to push through it even though moving hurts like a bitch atm.
> 
> BUT IM BACK NOW. And yes, we shall be celebrating Peter's birthday next time. And then the last chapter will be posted literally the day before my own birthday, so that's fun.
> 
> A bit of a personal note - I wanted to thank you guys so much for following this story. Your support has meant so much to me. I have kind-of put a little of myself into Peter for this, at least for a couple of points, and it's almost...I don't know, therapeutic? My grandmother and grandfather passed away a few months ago. My grandmother lived with my family for a few years before she moved down South for cancer treatments, so I knew her really well, but I didn't get to be there for when she passed. Which sucks, because I had made her a promise that ended up broken. It was a little thing, but it felt like a last request - wow okay that's a box of feelings that i'm not ready for. But anyway, if Peter talks about May in this story, that's where those feelings are coming from. I don't want anyone to think that it's just me trying to pull random sentences out of thin air, or that I'm being disrespectful or something. The feelings Peter is expressing are real - they're just...not his. 
> 
> Anyway, all that to say that this fic has been incredibly personal for me, and to have you guys receive each chapter with a wave of support means a lot. Thank you. God bless <3
> 
> Next chapter! Is! On! August 12! At! 6 PM (ish lets be honest here) EST!


	6. a great comfort while it lasted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I've just been imagining that it was really me you wanted after all and that I was to stay here for ever and ever. It was a great comfort while it lasted. But the worst of imagining things is that the time comes when you have to stop and that hurts.” 
> 
> – "Anne of Green Gables", by L.M. Montgomery

The first month had been hard.

There were many nights that were interrupted by nightmares, and – as unhealthy as Tony knew it was – they had yet to be able to sleep apart from each other. Weeks of depending on each other for warmth in space and comfort on Earth had made them clingy, and Tony knew it. That’s why the first step for recovery was getting to a point where they could be on their own.

No matter how much the thought scared them both.

The second month wasn’t much better.

The long nights of the first month gradually turned shorter, and nightmares became less frequent – perhaps because the need for sleep became more insistent. Yes, the long nights were on their way out, but long days were on their way in.

Tony transformed the garage into a workshop in a spur-of-the-moment decision, and soon, both ex-Avengers were spending almost every hour of every day in the throws of inventing. Even as their fingertips became raw and calloused, they stayed up, dreading the nightmares that popped back in every so often.

But at least it was getting better.

The third month finally brought a few smiles back to Peter’s face.

After reading an article about the effects of music on mental health, Tony started to play music more. The songs would be ever-present, throughout the house – a little soundtrack for their recovery. Because that was what it was, wasn’t it? Recovery. There was hope. The path they traveled ended in _healing_ , not tragedy.

The fourth month was their best so far, and things were looking great.

But August 10th? That was going to be the best day yet. Tony had decided as much when he woke up that morning.

He had been preparing for this day for weeks. He knew for a fact that the refrigerator was stocked with ingredients for chocolate chip pancakes, and all of the presents that he had collected (just a few so that Peter wouldn’t be overwhelmed) were wrapped and hidden in their proper places...

All that was left to do was wake up the kid himself.

Taking one last sweeping look around the living area, Tony turned and went upstairs towards Peter’s bedroom.

Since they had moved in, Peter had requested for only two things from his old room to be moved into his new room – a paper wristband from a comic convention that he and Ned had attended the year before, and a framed picture of Ben, May, and himself. Everything else had stayed in the apartment (which Tony had bought, in case Peter wanted to revisit it someday). When Tony quietly opened the door to Peter’s bedroom, the sliver of light from the hallway fell on the wrist band, which rested on a shelf above Peter’s messy desk. Tony poked his head in further and caught sight of the picture frame, on display on top of Peter’s bedside table.

“Mornigh,” the teenager greeted sleepily.

Tony took that as an invitation to step into the room and turn on one of Peter’s soft lamps in the corner of the room. “Morning, kiddo. Do you know what day it is?”

“Monday?”

Tony snorted a laugh, sitting on the edge of Peter’s bed. “Any significance to this Monday?”

Peter’s brown eyes peeked out from under his arm, which lay across his face. Tony waited for a few seconds for Peter’s mental processes to start working again, maintaining eye contact patiently.

Because he was looking right into Peter’s doe browns, he could pinpoint the exact moment when Peter realized the weight of the day, and then he saw the next moment, when Peter’s excitement fell further than it was able to rise.

“It’s my birthday,” Peter said with finality.

Tony proceeded carefully, unsure of where this melancholy was specifically coming from. “Yep.”

Peter pushed himself up so that he was sitting on his bed of rumpled covers and looked over at the framed picture on his bedside table.

Ah.

“I’m seventeen,” Peter said, using the same lack of happiness from before.

“Well,” Tony objected, trying to put some levity back into the conversation, “not yet. Another three hours and twenty-one minutes and then I’ll let you try that again.”

Peter looked at his hands as he fiddled with them in his lap. “They wouldn’t...do you think... Never mind. It’s stupid.”

“Are you stupid?” Tony asked, dead serious.

Peter shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“To me, Peter. Are you stupid to me?” Tony nudged a finger against Peter’s chin, prompting the teenager to look back up at him.

Peter hesitated, searching Tony’s eyes for a few moments, until he found what he was looking for and he shook his head. “No.”

“Then do you think any of your questions are stupid to me?” Tony pressed.

Peter hesitated again, but at least he didn’t stay quiet for as long as he did the previous time. “No.”

“Then ask your question,” Tony said. “It’s not stupid.”

A small smile slid onto Peter’s face and his eyes dipped away from looking at Tony. “You don’t even know what I was gonna ask you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony insisted, ducking to meet Peter’s eyes again. “You know me. You know that I know what stupid looks like – it sometimes looks at me from a mirror. But that makes me an expert on recognizing stupidity, and trust me, kid. You’re not it.”

Peter glanced back at the picture frame again, searching for reassurance that he wouldn’t find. “It just feels like... I dunno. I feel guilty celebrating without...”

Tony followed Peter’s gaze, back to the picture on the bedside table. For an image with so many people in it, the picture itself seemed lonely as it was the only object on the surface. The light dust on the tabletop had been disturbed in multiple directions, indicating that the picture frame had been picked up and adjusted many times.

Tony swallowed uncomfortably. “I...I get it, kid.”

Peter looked back at Tony with a question in his eyes, and so the man elaborated. “About two months ago... Well, I’m not the sentimental type, but for some reason I couldn’t ignore it.” Now it was Tony’s turn to look away. “I popped the question half a year before...” Tony rubbed at his eyes, pressing his fingers against wet tear ducts in the hopes of stopping himself from having a complete meltdown. Those were saved for late nights when the kid was sound asleep – they had no business popping up here. “ _Fuck_ , kid. I didn’t want to start your birthday like this. I’m sorry...”

A tentative presence that Tony recognized as Peter cautiously wrapped his arms around the man’s stomach. Tony hugged the boy’s shoulders in return, unsure of who exactly was comforting who. They had become so familiar in the past few months with affection that it had become soothing for both of them – a physical anchor in a time when they had been thrown into chaos.

“Okay,” Tony said into Peter’s hair. “After this, no more sadness, all right? We’re going to celebrate. I have _plans_ , damn it.”

Peter chuckled, but made no move to let go of Tony.

He sniffed and blinked the tears away, forcing himself to move on. “Are you comfortable?” Tony asked sarcastically. Peter hummed an affirmative. “Well, I hate to break it to you, kid, but you can’t get pancakes.”

Peter looked up abruptly, startled. “What? Pancakes? Why not?”

“I can’t exactly carry you down the stairs, kiddo,” Tony pointed out. “I’m old.”

“Yeah,” Peter mumbled.

Tony looked down, perturbed. “I think the correct response was ‘No, Tony, you’re not old!’ or ‘You don’t even have any grey hairs yet, Dad!’ or something. I don’t know, I might have to revoke pancake privileges-”

“Did you just call yourself ‘Dad’?” Peter interrupted.

Tony found himself at a loss for words, sure that his ears were reddening. He wracked his brain, scrambling to remember what the hell he had just said. In the meantime, he settled for a “No I didn’t.”

“I think you did,” Peter said with a small smile.

“No pancakes for you,” Tony decided, getting up and moving away from the bed. He looked back over his shoulder in time to catch Peter struggling to free himself from his blankets frantically.

“No! Wait! Wait, wait, I take it back! Pancakes please!”

* * *

Apart from their morning hiccup, the day was going perfectly. After piles and piles of pancakes, Tony sat Peter down in their living room, bringing out gift after gift that he had hidden. Peter’s genuine surprise and gratitude doubled with every present that Tony revealed, and invariably Tony’s own mood rose with it. He thought he was doing pretty well – after all, Peter had been reluctant to ask for anything, and Tony did not want to overwhelm him. Not that much, anyway.

In hindsight, if Tony’s goal was to not overwhelm Peter with gifts, he should have asked Steve to do the shopping. Tony Stark did not exactly see the point of subtle.

Peter’s jaw hit the ground as soon as he walked into the garage. “W-what-! Is that...is that a _car_?!”

Tony shrugged, holding back a grin. “Maybe.”

“Tony, what- I don’t-!” Peter sputtered. “I can’t _drive,_ what am I supposed to do with a _car_?!”

“Well, she doesn’t drive yet either, bucko,” Tony said, moving closer to the vehicle. Maybe if he stood next to it, Peter would move as well – he seemed hesitant to get any closer to it. “We actually might have to just replace all of the parts, though. I don’t know if she’s going to be fixable with what she’s got right now-”

“You want to work on it together?” Peter asked, his voice softer.

There was something tender in the air that caught Tony off-guard, causing him to hesitate for a second. “Well, only if you want to- I don’t know if that’s exactly- You know what? You’re a smart kid. You could probably do this all by yourself-”

Peter pinched Tony’s sleeve and shook his head, smiling. “I wouldn’t want to. Fixing it with you is gonna be half the fun.”

Tony absentmindedly wondered if it was possible to get a heart attack from sudden moments of delight.

“Well, are you gonna name her?” Tony prompted, slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulders and squeezing because _dammit his kid was too much_.

Peter’s lips quirked to one side in thought until he settled on a name. “The Skywalker.”

Tony blanched. “It’s a car.”

“But it’s a cool car,” Peter explained. “Cool cars need cool names.”

“So...Skywalker?”

“ _The_ Skywalker,” Peter nodded, his mind made up.

Tony rolled his eyes fondly and pressed a kiss into Peter’s hair. “You’re such a nerd.”

Peter chuckled. “Yeah.”

Tony clapped Peter on the shoulder and pulled away. “All right,” he started. “What do you want to fix first?”

“Uh...you pick,” Peter said.

“Well, if you want to take a look at the transmission, I can check on the distributor. Kinda...tag-team it that way. And if you need help, I can, y’know, lend a hand- You know what, let’s switch it. I’ll get the transmission, you get the distributor. Sound good?”

Peter grinned. “Sounds good.”

And that was all they needed. In the span of only a few moments, they had fallen into their own rhythm, hands deep into the inner workings of the car. Tony lay flat on his back, working on the transmission from underneath the vehicle, while Peter worked on the distributor in the hood. Tony couldn’t see exactly what Peter was doing. All he could see were Peter’s much-loved canvas shoes at the front end of the car.

It felt much like a day in his workshop, from Before – even more so when Peter asked if he could put on his playlist, and classic pop and rock started playing through the speakers in the garage.

They worked for hours, with Tony occasionally quizzing Peter on either car-maintenance-related or rock-music-related trivia and Peter suggesting movies they could watch later.

Eventually, Tony felt a playful kick to his foot. With a push, he rolled himself out from under the car and looked up at Peter, who stood over him. “Yes?”

“We should break for lunch,” Peter said. “It’s, like, two o’clock.”

“Ah yes, the spider-metabolism of the spider-baby demands attention,” Tony said, swallowing back a smile when Peter kicked his leg indignantly. “I’m feeling like some grilled cheese. How does that sound?”

Peter grinned at him. “Sounds cheesy.”

Tony made a face and swatted at Peter’s leg. “It’s too late. You’re already deteriorating from starvation. There’s no hope.”

Peter’s face lit up. “Hey, speaking of, can we maybe watch _A New Hope_?”

“Before or after the other dozen movies on our list?” Tony asked, extending a hand so that Peter could pull him to his feet. “Because, I hate to break it to you, kid, but there are only twenty-four hours per day.”

“We could watch a movie per night,” Peter suggested, grasping Tony’s hand and easing him up so that he could stand upright. “It’s not like we really do anything else.”

“If you’re so bored, I can look into getting school started again for you,” Tony said. “I’m sure the wonders of AP Chemistry and Calculus BC can keep you occupied for at least a little while-”

“Tony,” Peter said softly. Tony looked down at the kid and saw him staring out the garage door, where a dark grey car was turning off of the road and pulling down their driveway.

He’d recognize that overly cautious way of driving anywhere.

“It’s just Steve,” Tony said. He pulled his arm from around Peter’s shoulders and patted Peter between the shoulder blades. “Go ahead inside, okay, kiddo? Grilled cheese stuff should be on the second shelf in the fridge. I’m gonna see what they want, and then I’ll be right in.”

Peter frowned, looking like he was about to argue, but instead, he just nodded and, taking one more glance at the oncoming vehicle, he turned to go inside.

Three car doors shut, pulling Tony’s attention away from Peter and to the newcomers instead. Steve led the way, as he had guessed, but he was followed by Natasha and...who was that- the bug guy?

“Tony,” Steve said, nodding courteously.

“Cap,” Tony returned. “Nat.” Natasha smiled.

“Scott,” the other man said. He awkwardly stuck out a hand for a handshake.

Tony shook his head, holding up his grease-covered hands for emphasis. “You do not want to shake my hand right now.”

Scott pointed at him instead. “Got it.”

“How’s Peter?” Natasha asked, her eyes surveying the current chaos of the garage.

“He’s good,” Tony said genuinely. “He’s doing better. I’m guessing you three aren’t here to wish him a happy birthday, though.”

Scott blinked. “Who’s Peter?”

“Tony, we need to talk,” Steve said, leaving no room for discussion, but Tony would be damned if he didn’t push back anyway.

“Right now?” Tony challenged.

“We think we can reverse what he did,” Nat said. Her hair had begun to grow out again, so that, while most of her hair was still blonde, her natural, fiery red was making a comeback. “Undo the snap, save everyone that he killed.”

Tony crossed his arms, not caring about the state of his shirt. “And how, exactly, are you going to do that without any stones of infinite power?”

Scott scoffed a laugh, grinning in a way that told Tony he was already impressed with himself. “You’re gonna want to sit down for this one.”

* * *

The four Avengers (well, three Avengers and one freelancer) moved to the front porch and sat down. For the next ten minutes, Tony listened carefully as the three explained their vague idea of a plan – really, he did. He had to, if he had any prayer of sorting out the absolute madness that they were actually trying to suggest.

“Let me get this straight,” Tony said. “You want to stake the existence of this universe as it is on the idea that we can manipulate a highly dangerous, highly unpredictable force that you yourself only managed to escape because some rat decided to come along and walk on a keyboard.”

Scott froze, but after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “Yeah. This is actually more thought-out than the plans that I usually have.”

“No,” Tony refused, sitting back in his wicker chair and crossing both his arms and legs, effectively closing himself off from the conversation. “Nope, not gonna happen.”

“Tony-” Steve tried.

“It’s hard to move on, Cap,” Tony said. “I get it. But we’re trying. The whole world is trying. Think about what it would do to people if suddenly the other half of the world showed up – there are kids in the foster system whose parents would come back to find them gone. There are people who’ve started dating other people, who have grieved and mourned and moved on with their lives.

“And it’s too bad that that’s how it turned out, but that’s how people are recovering,” Tony continued. “Would I want everyone back? Yes, of course. I’d do anything to see Pepper again. You know that, and don’t even think of saying I don’t. But I can’t be a part of your crazy- what was it, time larceny?”

“Time heist,” Scott mumbled.

“I can’t leave the kid,” Tony plowed on, willing Steve Rogers to understand every word coming out of his mouth. “He doesn’t have anybody else. Wouldn’t get them back even if your plan worked. If you three want to go stick out your necks, you can go do that, but I can’t be reckless like that. Not anymore. I care about him too much to leave him like this.”

Natasha’s calculating eyes regarded him coldly, a sharpness present in them that he hadn’t seen before. “I thought you cared about Pepper, too, but you don’t seem to have a problem with letting her go. Is that the excuse you’re sticking with? Because it looks like you’re trying to stave off taking responsibility for what happened, and since it’s not _completely_ because of your failure that Thanos won, you think that you don’t have to try and fix it.”

Tony stood up abruptly, sending the wicker chair clattering against the wood of the porch. “ _The hell did you just say to me_.”

Nat stood and met Tony’s gaze unflinchingly. “I said that half a universe is dead, Tony. And part of that is your fault.”

“ _Romanoff_ ,” Steve barked, the tone of authority cutting through the air. “That’s enough.”

The anger in Natasha’s face abated slightly, as if the past conversation has just caught up to her. Tony looked away, not quite ready to let go of his anger, particularly when it was so justified. It was a rare feeling, and the part of himself that he had been repressing for Peter’s benefit, so that the kid wouldn’t see how ugly he could become in an argument – that part was holding tight to the feeling of righteous indignation.

“You two wait in the car,” Steve said firmly. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Tony refused to look up, unwilling to meet what he was sure was a reluctant gaze from Nat. Instead, he waited until he heard her footsteps walk away from him, clicking across the wood surface of the porch. He watched her leave from the corner of his eye.

Only when the doors of the car were shut did Steve turn a guilty gaze on Tony. “We didn’t come here to point fingers,” he said honestly. “I wanted to let you in on what we’re going to be doing, and see if you wanted to join. I get that you wouldn’t want to jump back in. You’ve spent a long time working towards this.” He gestured to the house, and to the tranquil lake beyond. “And I’m happy for you, Tony. Really. We all are.”

Tony scoffed. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

Steve grimaced. “Natasha isn’t herself. Just let her have a bit of breathing room. Clint is MIA, and she feels like it’s her fault that she didn’t check in on him sooner.”

“You sure he didn’t get...” Tony snapped his fingers.

Steve flinched, but shook his head. “No, no. We think we know where he is- or, where he’s _been_. Let’s just say that he isn’t staying out of the public eye, and we’ll leave it at that.”

Tony nodded, pressing his fingers in a fist against his lips. He mentally shoved that repressed voice from before back into its box. “Tell her ‘no hard feelings’, okay, Cap?”

“I will,” Steve said, as if he was pledging himself to some sort of quest or something grandiose instead of just passing on a casual message. His gaze flitted to something over Tony’s shoulder. Whatever he saw made him straighten and look down uncomfortably, so, naturally, Tony turned to see what had changed Cap’s demeanor.

There, standing just beyond the screen door, stood Peter, the Captain America shield from the garage clutched tentatively in his hands.

“I just thought...” Peter started uncertainly, his eyes not meeting Tony’s, “I thought Mr. Rogers might need his shield back. Y’know, if he’s gonna keep doing Avenger stuff.”

“Avenger stuff,” Tony repeated, giving Peter a look. Peter’s face flushed red, prompting a soft, gracious smile from Steve.

Before Peter could stammer out a reply, Tony motioned for him to come out of the house and hand over the vibranium icon. The teenager hurried to comply, shifting the weight into Tony’s grasp.

Tony looked over it for a moment, then glanced up at Steve. “Can I trust you with this?” he asked, half joking, half cautious.

Steve nodded, catching the gravity of the moment. “If you’re ready to trust me, I won’t break that trust again.”

Tony hesitated, but nodded eventually, offering the handles of the shield to Steve, who took it and let it rest comfortably at his side.

“This is so cool,” Peter breathed.

“Kinda ruining the moment here, kiddo,” Tony said, reaching around to pull Peter’s shoulders comfortably into his side.

“Are they staying for lunch?” Peter asked, looking up at Tony.

Steve put out a hand and shook his head before Tony had to say anything. “We probably have to go. It’s a bit of a drive back to the city.”

“But they’ll stop by some other time,” Tony said, both as an assurance to Peter and as an invitation to Steve.

The latter nodded appreciatively. “Some other time.”

* * *

The rest of the day passed too quickly.

After lunch (during which they watched Peter’s all-time favorite, _A New Hope_ ), they went back into the workshop to continue on the car, working to the music and falling back into their rhythm. They would have lost track of time if Tony hadn’t set an alarm.

There was _no way_ he was going to miss this.

Tony washed the grease and grime off of his hands and face, then, bundled in a sweatshirt and armed with a tray of graham crackers, marshmallows, chocolate, newspapers, and a lighter, he headed outside to the fire pit by the lake. He had prepared and accounted for almost everything. There was just one problem.

He had no idea how to actually start a campfire.

He recruited FRIDAY to help him figure it out, but even with the might of the Internet and artificial intelligence on his side, he couldn’t cause more than a spark. He was about to go grab a blowtorch from the garage when he heard something.

“Do you want me to do it?”

Tony glanced up, catching sight of Peter, his curly hair slightly damp and unruly – probably from a shower. He wore that blue, faded Midtown sweater that he liked so much, and carried two fleece blankets under his arm.

“Don’t worry, kid,” Tony dismissed, turning his attention back to the nonexistent fire. “I’ll get it. I have three Ph.D.s, you know.”

“Yes, but do you have the wilderness survival merit badge?”

Tony stopped working again, looking at Peter incredulously. “Does it look like I have or would want to have the wilderness survival merit badge?”

“Then why are you trying to light the fire?” Peter countered.

Tony raised a finger. “Hold on. Back up a minute. Did you just imply that _you_ were a boy scout?”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “Well- Just for like, a year- Not even. Five months? Five months.”

“All right, Mr. Eagle Scout,” Tony said, using his knees to push himself upright, “have at it.”

“I can teach you,” Peter offered. “I didn’t mean to replace you-”

“If you can do my job better than I can, you deserve it, kiddo,” Tony said, moving to set up the foldout chairs. “Don’t let anyone make you think less of yourself for being smart.”

Peter reddened. “Okay.”

In the end, Tony didn’t know how the fire _actually_ got lit. He turned his back for _two seconds_ to set up chairs and blankets, and by the time he turned around, Peter had a pretty strong fire going.

“Ta-da,” Peter offered half-heartedly.

Tony ran a hand through Peter’s wet curls. “Well, well. Looks like genius runs in the family.”

“We’re not technically related.”

“Don’t ruin a good line, Pete.”

It took them a few more minutes to get situated, but soon enough, they both sat side-by-side in foldout chairs, covered with blankets, watching the horizon as the sun set. Peter eagerly went through the marshmallows, roasting one after another.

(“Kid, that’s not even toasted.”)

(“Yeah it is! Yeah it is- look. Right here. Perfect golden brown.”)

(“That’s just the top of the marshmallow. It’s not even _warm_.”)

(“I don’t want it to get all melted – it’s too sticky.”)

(“Pfft. Too sticky. And you’re not?”)

(“I’m not _messy_ sticky.”)

The sun slowly dipped towards the lake, and the fire, despite their best efforts, dwindled with it. That would be the moment when Peter realized that he wasn’t going to finish all of the marshmallows that night, and just started to eat them straight out of the bag.

Tony stretched an arm across Peter’s shoulders, securing him comfortably by his side. They chattered about nothing – they both knew each other too well for anything that had happened in the past, and the future was uncertain. It was easier to talk about nothing.

Eventually, even that chatter faded into a casual, comfortable silence. Instead, they both settled in to watch the sunset.

Tony stared at the horizon a while longer, watching as the sky lit up with bright orange and fuchsia. Orange, just like her hair – no, her hair had been...lighter, hadn’t it? Almost blonde, but not quite...

Guilt and sadness struck him at once, the blade of mournful realization striking him deep in his chest. He could barely remember what she looked like.

How could that be? He used to spend long hours at night committing her face to memory when insomnia wouldn’t let him sleep. But now, remembering her, he found that he was only able to recall blue eyes, orange hair, and...and her name. _Pepper_.

“She was right,” he whispered. The sunrise before him blurred its colors, turning into a watercolor painting or some angsty-tween’s impression of fire. Was that the sky...? Oh, no – simply tears distorting the sight as they flooded along his eyelids. Wonderful: of course the one emotion he had been determined not to have that day would suddenly show up in force so overwhelming that his hands shook.

“Nat was right. I’m a heartless _bastard_.” He spat the word, as if the venom in his voice could dispose of the truth he knew was in the statement, but it clung to him like tar.

Peter vehemently shook his head. “No- don’t _say_ that-”

“I haven’t even thought of her,” Tony interrupted, refusing to look at the kid. “No pictures, no... _fuck_ , I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. She’s...she was everything and now she’s gone.” Tony pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to force the tears back into his tear ducts, but they only spilled over and coated his wrists. He heaved a shaky breath, trying to make himself calm enough so that he could regain enough control over himself and apologize to Peter, tell him how sorry he is that his birthday turned out to be such a mess.

But Peter beat him to it. There was no caution in the way the boy wrapped his arms around Tony, as there had been that morning. There was just insistence. Just comfort.

“She would have understood, Tony,” Peter said softly. “Ms. Romanoff was wrong. It’s not your fault. None of it. She didn’t know what she was talking about.”

Tony sniffed harshly, forcing himself to breathe long enough to look over at Peter’s honest expression and ask, “How long were you listening?”

“I heard all of it,” Peter admitted. “Sensitive hearing.”

Tony hiccupped a laugh and looked away again, but Peter kept going.

“I think you should do it,” Peter said.

That certainly caught Tony’s attention. He whipped his head towards Peter, protest ready-

“You would if May had been dusted, too,” Peter said. “I know you would. You’d risk getting caught in the quantum realm if it meant getting May back for me. But you won’t do it for yourself. Tony, this is a second chance. You’ve _earned_ a second chance. Not everyone is that lucky. You owe it to them. Because I’d do anything to get May back. And Ben. And my parents. But I can’t, and that’s all right. Life just happened that way.” Peter moved so that he was looking Tony in the eyes, dead serious. “But you... You don’t have to stick with this. You can get her back. Don’t give up on her when you can still get her back-”

“Kid, it’s a long shot anyway-”

“You’re _Tony Stark,_ ” Peter insisted. “Everything you do is a long shot. All of your daring action plans are long shots. What changed?”

Tony said nothing for a few moments, but he finally admitted, “We did, Peter.”

So much was wrapped into those three words. As people, individually, they had changed. Their relationship had changed. Their responsibilities had changed. Their futures had changed. Everything was different now.

But Peter persisted, “If you’re worried about leaving me behind, then let me come with you. You know me. I can hold my own.” Tony opened his mouth to object, but Peter continued. “Besides, it’s not like I’ll have very much left if you leave. I can just stay with you instead, and then I can watch your back and you can watch mine.”

Peter looked up into Tony’s eyes, more serious than Tony had seen him in their months in the cabin.

He broke the tension by pressing a kiss against Peter’s forehead and fully returning the hug.

There was an answer to this question, but it didn’t need to be answered right now. Who knew if time travel was possible, anyway?

And at that moment, who cared?

“Your beard is scratchy,” Peter complained, his voice muffled from where his face was pressed into the fabric of Tony’s flannel.

* * *

Of course he’d be here, long after Peter went to sleep. Long after the garage had been semi-cleaned-up, and the campfire had been put out.

Of course he’d be walking in circles around the holographic projection, his notes on the desk in the middle of the room, a ribboned meeting of art and science casting a bright glow that illuminated what would have otherwise been soft shadows.

Of course he’d be here, because Tony Stark was never one to leave well-enough alone.

He was never one to learn from his mistakes either, apparently, since the last time he had taken initiative, the team had fallen apart, and the time before that, Ultron had been created.

Third time’s the charm, right? Taking initiative had ended with them creating the Vision, after all.

So he worked, giving commands to FRIDAY in a hushed tone, working and reworking the model as he took occasional sips from his cinnamon-infused dark roast (Peter’s idea).

And then, the unthinkable happened. _It worked._

He stared up at the twisting hologram, the affirmative green “Simulation Successful” label blinking conspiratorially up at him.

He stumbled back into an armchair, struck into shocked silence for the first time in a long while. _Holy- Time travel. He just solved-_

Tony laughed in incredulity. It worked. He could help save them- all of them. He could bring them back-

He could bring Pepper back.

Above him, Peter slept soundly in his bed, unaware of how drastically his new life was going to change.

Tony let him sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM ALIIIIVVVEEEEEEE
> 
> Me: You know what? I should really push to finish all of the fics that I’ve already started-  
> Also me: Yes, but you’ve been wanting to write that original novel for awhile-  
> Also me: Guys wait what if the MCU happened in the 1940s and everybody was mafia  
> Also me: But what about a Tangled AU  
> Also me: AND an Android AU  
> Also me: I really should finish that Monster AU that I started-  
> Also me: This story deserves an Endgame rewrite tho-  
> Also me: y’know what I really want to take sEVEn cLASSeS this year and make it so that my transcript reads tEN APs. 
> 
> why am i like this
> 
> Next chapter's the end, guys! I am not ready and ready at the same time, y'know what I mean?
> 
> I am so sorry for the delay! Life hit me with a bus over the past month. T'was not fun.
> 
> I'm also pretty sure the shark hath been jumpt now but oh well. *sigh* I give up.
> 
> If you like my writing style, and any of those projects I mentioned sound interesting to you, go ahead and hit the subscribe button on my author bio page and you'll get updated immediately when I post - or, you can follow my Tumblr and get notices that way! But, my dear reader, if we are to part after this story, then I bid thee farewell, and must say that I really hope you enjoyed this journey with me. It's been a blast. Now, on to the final chapter...


	7. this is man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> +1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Muscles aching to work, minds aching to create – this is man.” 
> 
> – "The Grapes of Wrath", by John Steinbeck

Nothing could make Peter hate the Avengers Compound.

Even though the landscaping was becoming overgrown and spotted with weeds, and even though the windows were dark, and even though the compound was absent of the hundreds of people that were supposed to be there, Peter still felt that buzzing rush of childlike wonder that he felt from his first trip when his eyes fell on the inactive quinjet and the stark Avengers logo on the side of the main building.

Cheek pressed against the glass, he almost missed Tony glancing over at him from the driver’s seat, a soft smile on his face.

Maybe things would be okay like this. A broken world didn’t have to be a hopeless one.

When they pulled around to the main building, Tony parked and pointed a stiff finger at the teen in the passenger seat. “Stay here.” Then, he ducked out of the car and shut the door behind him.

Peter watched him walk around the back of the car, to where a weary Steve Rogers stood with his hands shoved into his pockets. Patiently, the teen waited, unable to hear the conversation between the two heroes because of the soundproofing work Tony had done on the car. Instead, he settled for simply watching Tony shake hands with the Captain via their reflection in the side view mirror.

So, it was official: the Avengers were back together again.

Meeting the original six the first time had been cool, but seeing them _work_ together?

Nobody could blame him for wanting to take pictures.

It had started as a harmless pastime. After all, Tony had prevented him from working on what he called a “highly volatile and potentially spiderling-harming” project” (as if that didn’t make him want to be in there even more), and he had little else to do with his time. It wasn’t like he had homework to do or something.

So, he assigned himself a mission: take as many candids of the original six as possible before they noticed.

He tried _everything_. He crawled on walls, ceilings, in vents, on the outside of the building... anything to get that perfect shot of one of his childhood heroes, hard at work on the very project he wanted so desperately to be a part of.

By the end of the fourth day at the Compound, he had his own little collection of photographs. He had taken somewhere over 200 of Thor (mostly of him napping in random places – had he put on a little weight?), exactly 3 of Natasha (who caught on to what he was doing fairly quickly and made it impossible for any more candids to be taken of her), 12 of Clint (who threatened to break his camera if it dared to show up in his vicinity ever again), a little over 50 of Steve (who, to be honest, probably knew he was there, but chose to ignore him), and around 130 of Mr. Hulk (though most of them were selfies instead of true candids).

Peter flipped through his collection from where he was perched on the ledge of the main building’s roof, unable to keep the smile from his face. He had captured genuine moments from all of the original Avengers with his camera.

Well, almost all of them.

Armed with his trusty camera, Peter padded down the industrial hallways of the Compound in his slippers, keeping an eye and an ear out for oncoming people. Not that he felt unsafe or anything, it just...would be a little embarrassing for someone to notice the Hello Kitty slippers that Tony had bought him as one of the smaller gifts for his birthday the week before.

Miraculously, he ran into no one, and in no time at all, he was stepping into the hangar that had been converted into lab space. There, in the center of the room, stood the massive structure-in-progress that Peter recognized from Tony’s models back home. Cords and tubes stretched out from the underside of the machine, attaching to various power sources and control modules. Despite the chaotic cacophony of parts, the structure maintained a clean, modern look. Peter smiled to himself; of course it did – Tony designed it, after all.

The “mechanic” himself sat at a nearby makeshift desk, hid forehead resting on his arms, which were draped across the workspace haphazardly. His shoulders slowly bobbed with even breaths, indicative of a deep sleep. Even in such a state, his left fingers were curled around the handle of his coffee mug (the one Peter ordered for him that read, ‘Who needs powers when you have coffee?’).

Peter spotted a blanket (Thor’s?) laying nearby. Setting his camera down on Tony’s desk, he went over and snagged the blanket, then brought it back over and draped it across Tony’s shoulders. Usually, when Tony fell asleep at his desk like this, he would rather wake him up, and Peter knew Tony would freak out if he knew Peter had set foot inside the makeshift.

And, so, Peter let him sleep; what Tony didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Peter took a few steps back and snapped a picture. He flicked back and looked over the picture, admiring the soft light from the desk lamp and the naturally blurred background that he had captured with his camera.

Perfect.

“Are you supposed to be in here?”

Peter jumped and whipped around, hastily putting the camera down on the table behind him.

Mr. Hulk let an amused grin stretch across his face. “I’m guessing that’s a ‘no’.”

Peter scratched lightly at the nape of his neck. “I was just...I just wanted to, um...check on Tony, ‘cause it’s getting... It’s pretty late.”

Mr. Hulk shrugged. “Not _that_ late, but I don’t think he’s had much sleep lately.”

Peter looked back at Tony, who was still sound asleep. He couldn’t help but notice the deep purple and grey streaks under his eyes, the goatee just the slightest bit out of control. “He looks so stressed,” Peter said softly. “He’s been working so hard. He just...he just keeps going, y’know? I think I got him to stop when we were home- at the cabin, and he kind of...crumbled.”

Mr. Hulk nodded, crossing his arms around his massive torso. “It wasn’t easy for anyone. Nobody was unaffected, and it takes some time to recover from losing someone. It might take longer than it normally would, since there’s nothing to really ground anyone back in ‘normal’ anymore. But Tony doesn’t stop talking about you. I think you’re doing more than you realize to help him get through everything.”

“I just wish he would let me help _more_ ,” Peter continued, a note of frustration punching through his tone. “He’s done so much for me – not just after the...everything. He really took me under his wing...really...not just mentored me, but- he invested in me, y’know? He cared about where I was, what I was doing...at least, I think he did. But then Thanos...a-and May just... But he didn’t...didn’t push me away, and he totally could’ve. ‘Cause Pepper... He loves her. He loves her so much...but he...”

Peter sniffled and rubbed the tears from his eyes. When had the waterworks started? “He put losing her aside to help me, and I’m just... I’m just Peter Parker, y’know? I’m nobody special – aside from...the obvious. But I’m not worth it... I’m not worth Pepper. And I wish there was something I could do to help fix everything, but he won’t let me, and I just feel like I’m useless and so undeserving of what he’s done for me-”

“You want to help?”

Peter blinked at Mr. Hulk. “What?”

“We’re testing the Pym Particle,” Mr. Hulk explained. “We’ve got a version of Tony’s ‘time GPS’ that we want to check. Scott’s a bit too clumsy, Rhodey’s leg braces aren’t accommodated by the current suit, and most everyone else is either sleeping-” He gestured to Tony, still asleep at the desk. “-or out on the grounds, or training. It’ll only take five seconds. Benefits of time travel.”

“You’d...you’d really let me help?” Peter checked, watching Mr. Hulk for the first sign of insincerity. Any moment, he’d start laughing and say, ‘gotcha!’ or something.

But, to Peter’s relief, Mr. Hulk remained genuine. “Come on,” he said, turning and moving back towards the door. “What Tony doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Taking one glance back at his impromptu guardian, Peter hurried after the strongest Avenger.

* * *

Time travel felt...weird.

He had expected it to make him feel nauseous and dizzy, but it had actually filled him with a weird buzzing feeling that thrummed under his palms and under the skin of his back.

And, of course, it threw him off balance.

He fell to the floor rather unceremoniously, toppling forward, then kind of sideways...? Hell, he didn’t know _which_ way he fell. One moment he was standing in a smaller room of the Avengers Compound, the next, he was on the kitchen floor.

The kitchen...?

Hardly daring to hope, Peter lifted up his head, pushing himself off of the tiled floor.

White refrigerator with eclectically collected magnets, the red stain next to the handle of the cabinet drawer with the pots (and pans and plates and really anything that needed to be put away that didn’t have a home), and then past the kitchen counter, the sight of a small apartment with beaten doors, a worn sofa, and shelves of much-loved thrift-store books...

This was his old home.

Keeping one hand on the counter to steady himself, he crept forward. Drinking in the sight of the home he had lost.

That was the blanket he always used when he took a sick day (that is, back when he _had_ sick days). That was the book that Peter had bought May for Christmas, hoping that she would like it (though, in typical May fashion, she had yet to pick it up).

The picture frames hanging just so...

The rug still rumpled under one leg of the couch from where Peter had slid into it after school one day...

It was like he had never left.

Spotting his old phone charging on the counter, Peter picked it up and clicked the home button, illuminating the lock screen.

_6:52 AM, April 27, 2018_

It happens today.

His hands were shaking so badly now, he could barely see the details of his lock screen wallpaper (a mural of Spider-Man that he once thought was _so cool_ , but had all but forgotten about it until that moment). He hastily put the phone down, the metal surface clattering against the counter.

Today’s the day. There’s his field trip permission form, sitting on the coffee table, just like it had been...

This was...this was too much. There was too much...too much new information, and too many familiar things that he had shamefully let pass out of his memory.

But that’s when his eyes fell on the glasses.

They were round and wiry, just like he remembered. The lenses were the tiniest bit smudged – she could never get them quite as “clear as crystal”, despite her best efforts – and the way the legs were angled, the glasses were always the slightest bit crooked on the bridge of her nose. They were unmistakably May’s glasses.

He picked them up gingerly, as if they were carefully crafted miniature ice sculptures instead of the cheapest frames May could find in the store that weren’t “abominable modern art experiments”. She had had these ever since he was in seventh grade.

He slid the glasses into one of the available compartments on the uniform’s utility belt, securing them for the journey back.

Speaking of, the device on his wrist (The ‘time GPS’? Is that seriously what they’re calling it? They clearly should have asked him for help earlier in the project.) started to beep, signaling that his foray into another time was coming to an end.

“Peter? Are you up yet?”

Peter froze. He couldn’t hear her before – she must have been in her room – but now he could hear her voice. It made the past five months seem like they’ve been lived in silence, and her voice was the first thing that has been able to breakthrough.

“May,” he whispered, his voice failing him. The beeping on his wrist intensified, and his spider-sense started to tingle.

_No, not yet-_

“May!” he called, rushing out of the kitchen and into the hallway that led to both bedrooms.

May’s bedroom door creaked open, and out stepped May herself, her hair still wrapped up in that maroon towel splotched with bleach stains. She squinted in his direction.

“Is your alarm still going?” she asked. “Kiddo, you gotta get moving. You’re supposed to be at school _on time_ for the field trip. Do you want the bus to leave you again?”

“No ma’am,” he replied numbly.

“You better get dressed,” she went on, moving past him into the living room. “You know you can’t go in your pajamas.”

Peter looked down at the white and red of the quantum suit, confused. “This isn’t-”

“Peter, have you seen my glasses?” May asked, scrutinizing the coffee table and then the bookshelves all around the room. “I kind of need them, if I’m going to be driving.”

He shouldn’t.

He had no idea what kind of effects it would have.

_It’s just something small-_

One future out of over fourteen million. That’s how slim their chances were.

He should hand over the glasses.

“I haven’t seen them,” he said. “I’m...I’m gonna go get dressed, though, okay?”

“Hurry!” May urged, still looking.

Peter crossed his fingers and prayed that she would be all right. That _everyone_ will be all right.

_Just...one small change._

“Love you, May,” he said.

She glanced up and sent him a quick smile – one of those casual ones she had, where her crow’s feet would crinkle and her eyes would gleam. “Love you too kiddo.”

She turned back around.

Then, his stomach felt like it dropped out of his body – like he was going through some really bad turbulence, or had reached the top of a rollercoaster wind up, and was taking the plunge back toward the ground.

The apartment was gone in the blink of an eye, replaced instead by the moving chaos that he had begun to associate with time travel. The nebulous waves of the quantum realm warped around him, forcing him forward.

Before he could have time to acclimate to the environment, he was shot up, back into the small room of the Compound that he had disappeared from.

A force slammed into him, arms wrapping around him so fast that he wasn’t able to see who it was.

Scratchy cheek, the smell of coffee and motor oil and faint cologne- _Tony._

“Oh my god,” Tony breathed, his hands trembling as they gripped the back of Peter’s quantum suit. “ _Fuck._ You’re okay. Are you okay?” He pulled out of the hug, hands moving to grip Peter’s shoulders instead. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine-” Peter started.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Parker,” Tony snapped, dead serious. “If you’re hiding anything, I fucking swear-”

“I’m all right,” Peter said, grabbing Tony’s arms to try and steady the shaking. “I’m all right. See? No bumps, no bruises, not even a hiccup.” He said this last part to Mr. Hulk, who stood next to a sober Rhodey and guilty Scott in the corner of the room. “I feel kind of tingly, but-”

“Tingly?” Tony said, attention snapping to that one part of the sentence. “Where? What kind of tingly? As in, ‘blood loss’ tingly, or-”

“Say ‘tingly’ again one more time,” Peter said. He had meant it as a joke, but the fire in Tony’s eyes told him it wasn’t taken that way.

“You be quiet!” Tony exploded, bordering hysterics. “Don’t open your mouth unless you’re answering a question, and don’t fucking dare move. You!” He rounded on Mr. Hulk now, and Peter felt a twinge of guilt shoot through him. “What kind of _sick fuck_ brings a kid in as a lab rat?! Gamma going to your brain again, Banner?”

“He wasn’t-” Peter tried.

“Zip it!” Tony turned on him again. “Not another word. And you!” He turned his attention to Rhodey this time, and Peter noted that the colonel was the only one in the room able to withstand Tony’s glare without shrinking away. “I expect this shit from Scotty boy over here, but you?! What the hell, Rhodes! What the fuck made you think this was a good idea?!”

“Peter was the best option for the job,” Rhodey explained, keeping his voice level. “He’s got a healing factor better than Steve’s, and while, yeah, he’s not invincible, he’s the strongest here besides Bruce, who needed to bring him back.”

“He’s a _minor!_ ”

“He’s an Avenger.”

“ _He’s my kid!”_

“He’s perfectly capable and willing-”

“He doesn’t even _know_ what we’re trying to do-!”

Peter jumped back in. “Maybe if you’d _tell_ me-”

Tony shot him a death stare. “You stay out of this.”

“Tony, the kid was bored to tears when we asked him,” Rhodey said, his tone starting to match Tony’s in defensiveness. “He just wanted to help-”

“Why the hell do you think I benched him? He’s too young-”

“You didn’t seem to think that when you gave him a suit-”

“ _SHUT THE HELL UP!_ ” Tony exploded.

The room froze, the only movement being from Tony as he looked them all in the eye in turn, as if he were unsure of who to attack next.

Peter kept his gaze lowered, not wanting to make eye contact with his guardian in such a frenzied state. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Scott and Mr. Hulk attempting to do the same thing. Rhodey was the only one meeting Tony’s glare head on (probably due to his past experience from dealing with Tony Stark).

Though, Peter had never seen the man _this_ angry – not even after he found out about the beach on Homecoming night. This was a whole new level of furious – as in May-finding-out-about-Spider-Man furious.

_May._

A rush of melancholy longing filled him as soon as he thought of her. He absent-mindedly pulls the glasses out from the utility belt, checking over them to make sure nothing was broken. Nope – still as perfect as they were when he first picked them up.

“Get out,” Tony growled. Peter looked up and found he was speaking to Mr. Hulk, Scott, and Rhodey.

The three adult Avengers left silently, Scott shooting him a quick look of sympathy before the door closed behind him, leaving Peter alone in the testing room with Tony.

Tony, who wasn’t looking at him yet.

Peter held out the glasses tentatively, as if they were a peace offering. “I...I got to talk to May.”

Tony turned around, the anger in his features temporarily abating in favor of confusion. “You what?”

“May,” Peter repeated, in a quieter voice this time. “She was getting ready to...getting ready to go out. That morning.”

Tony took the glasses with care, looking over them to verify they were, in fact, the very glasses that May Parker was known for wearing.

Peter backed up against the wall and slid down so that he was sitting with his back supported. “She was just saying...normal stuff, but it felt so weird,” Peter said softly. “I don’t know what I was expecting her to say. It’s not like she knew that she was going to d-”

He couldn’t say it.

Five months, and he still couldn’t say it.

Tony put the glasses down on the board that Mr. Hulk had used to monitor the time jump, then crouched in front of Peter, taking hold of one of his hands. “Pete...” He trailed off, words failing him for the moment.

Peter scooted forward and snaked his arms around Tony, hiding his face in his mentor’s collar. Tony returned the gesture, holding him tightly.

They sat there for a few minutes, each one holding the other together, trying to keep him from crumbling.

“I thought I was going to have a heart attack,” Tony whispered. “When I woke up, and saw your camera- and then the sound of the... And I asked FRIDAY where you were and she said she couldn’t find you...”

Peter tightened the hug, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. What Tony didn’t know _had_ hurt him. He should have known that the man with backup plans for the backup plans didn’t like not knowing something.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said in an equally quiet voice. “You looked so tired and I just wanted to help. And Mr. Hulk said it would only take five seconds, so I figured-”

“You could’ve died, Peter,” Tony interrupted, voice breaking. “You could’ve been stranded in the past, or lost in the quantum realm, or teleported to some alien war and nobody would ever know-”

“Wouldn’t have happened,” Peter said. “You would’ve fixed it. You can fix anything.”

Tony’s shoulders started to tremble, his chest heaving with shaking breaths. There was a growing wet spot on his shoulder that Peter decided not to mention. Instead, he rubbed his mentor’s back to try and ground him. “But I’m okay,” he said. “All that stuff didn’t happen. Your invention worked awesome, just as you designed it to. And hey, now we can go back and get the stones, easy peasy. We can get everyone back.”

Tony didn’t move, and the shaking didn’t stop. Peter waited for a few seconds, then offered, “We can do that saving-the-world stuff tomorrow, though. Could we maybe just watch a movie tonight? And eat ice cream?”

Tony huffed a watery laugh. “Yeah, kiddo. We can do a movie night.”

Peter didn't know whether he would ever be able to get back to "normal". He didn't know if there was a "normal" for him to even get _back_ to.

But as he sat, curled up next to his surrogate father on the couch, watching _Return of the Jedi_ as the day outside gave way to dusk and night, he decided that this - being with Tony, left with memories of May and of an old life - this was okay. This could be his new "normal". 

The feeling of Tony's fingers carding through his hair eventually lulled him to sleep, and he dreamed of nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, if you were woken up from your nap with the news that your kid is playing with a possible death trap you’d be grouchy too
> 
> Headcanon that May is BLIND w/o her glasses because it...worked for the plot
> 
> DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I SWITCHED TO PRESENT TENSE WHILE WRITING THIS. 
> 
> TOO MANY. LIKE WTF sry jesus BUT EVERY OTHER SENTENCE I WOULD SWITCH AND HAVE TO CHANGE EVERYTHING. WHAT EVEN.
> 
> I am also posting the end bit that I deleted. This was supposed to go a little further into Endgame, but it ended nicely before we got there, so...I just called it. The second little drabble will be posted if you're curious...
> 
> But here we are! Christmas morning. I have updated all of my stories (and posted a teaser of my original novel, if anyone's curious), so I hope you guys enjoy this Mega-Update! I love you so much, and wanted to get all of my stories updated for you. <3 Enjoy, and have a wonderful Christmas!!! Thank you for being the best thing about my 2019 <3 <3 <3
> 
> Here's to 2020!

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on the hellsite! pechoraflow.tumblr.com


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